


The Late Bloomers

by SophinaBlackwood



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Cheating, Coming of Age, Kayfabe Compliant, Kevin is a face, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2017-03-31
Packaged: 2018-07-27 03:27:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 40,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7601623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SophinaBlackwood/pseuds/SophinaBlackwood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where people are ageless at eighteen until they meet their soulmate to grow old together, Neville struggles with the possibility of not finding a mate and living forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Perpetual

It’s a dreary day in Newcastle Upon Tyne but that’s nothing new. A light spit of rain falls from the blanket of clouds that sweep across the sky. Neville’s grandmother’s hand is warm around his own, and she leads them into the backyard where her lemon tree is. It must be nearly four meters high, with beautiful bright yellow fruits that wave gently in the wind like tiny suns.

“How old is this tree?” Neville asks.

“Very old,” his grandmother says, in her rich voice, dark and smooth like a cup of morning tea. “You can tell because of how far the top most branches are.”

“Like you?”

“Yes,” she laughs and holds her hand up to the sky just like the tree does. Neville knows she’s old because her hair is silver. Neville is only seven and he looks seven too. He has brown hair. “Now choose a lemon, dear, and we can get back into the warm house.”

They’re making cookies and need a lemon. It’s the special ingredient. They never need to go to the shops for lemons because they have the tree right there in his grandmother’s backyard. Neville walks forward and points to the smallest lemon, sitting on the lowest branch.

“This one.” he says.

“Why do you want that one?” his grandmother asks.

“Because it’s small like me,” Neville says.

She crouches beside him and takes both his hands in hers. “That one’s not ready, Adrian.”

“Why not?”

“It still needs time to grow. But when it does, it will be the sweetest, and most delicious- all the other lemons will be so jealous.”

Neville looks at the lemon thoughtfully. “Then we should leave it alone for a while.”

“Aye,” she smiles, standing to reach for a fruit higher on the tree, “And when it’s ready, I’ll let you pick it.”

Neville nods enthusiastically. He’d like that.

 

* * *

 

When Neville opened his eyes, his first realisation was that he was drenched in sweat. He must have jolted because Sami stirred beside him, groaning a little before his hand lazily found the side of Neville’s face.

“Nev?”

“I’m fine,” Neville said reactively, but Sami would be able to feel how damp his body is.

“What’s going on? Nervous?”

“I keep having dreams about my grandmother,” Neville admitted. She died years ago and he’d never had dreams about her. Until now, apparently. “I don’t know what it means.”

“We can google it in the morning. Try sleep, you have a big day tomorrow.”

Kevin’s ass shifted against his hip and a hand aimed for Sami smacked him right in the lower stomach. Neville grunted and curled away from him angrily. “Go to sleep,” Kevin gruffed. Neville poked out his tongue in the dark.

Sami wrapped his arms around Neville protectively, pressing his lips to his forehead. He was already slowly going limp as he wandered back to the depths of sleep. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” Kevin muttered back automatically before Neville could respond.

There was no way he was going to be able to get back to sleep. He pinched his lips, eyes wide awake and forehead snug under Sami’s chin. He used to love this, but it didn’t feel the same anymore. He tried to savour the familiar smell of the bedroom he had shared with Sami and Kevin for years but it was nothing but sour to his nose now. He could see his reflection across Sami's chest in the wardrobe mirror. He still looked eighteen but really, he was twenty-seven years old.

Like the lemon, Neville was still not ready. He needed time to grow.

But when would he be picked?

 

* * *

 

Neville’s first day in WWE was like an out-of body experience. He had seen enough movies about American high school cliques but he hadn’t expected it to extend into a wrestling locker room. At first he had regretted that Sami and Kevin couldn’t join him, leaving them behind at Montreal International as they waved him off at the gate. Kevin held his soulmate who couldn’t help but cry. It only made Neville feel even more juvenile, like he often did with them. Like they were his parents or something. Which was really weird to think about because that’s not what they were at all.

A tall pale wrestler with a ginger mohawk smacked Neville’s tray to the ground as he tried to navigate his way through catering, sending his food spilling across the floor. The whole room turned at the commotion and many laughed, leaving Neville beet red with humiliation as he quickly loaded up another tray and ate outside instead.

Lucky Kevin wasn’t there after all. Had he seen that, he would’ve gone on a rampage, beating up everyone on sight. That’s how it had always been, but Neville couldn’t do that forever. He knew he was a talented wrestler and he needed to break off on his own and prove that he could look after himself. Prove that he was no longer a burden to Sami and Kevin.

 **How was your first week in WWE???  
** **Your match with Curtis Axel was amazing!!!!!**

**It was great! Thanks Sami.**

**Are people looking after you there??**

**Yeah, they are. Don’t worry about me.**

**That’s a relief. Good to hear it!  
** **Kev wants to know if you’ve made any new friends yet?**

**I think it’s a bit early for that, haha. Still finding my footing.**

Neville’s palm squeezed nervously around his phone as he replied to the enthusiastic texts. It was never easy to lie to Sami but he didn’t want them to worry. To be honest, he’d never been more terrified in his life. He’d always had someone bigger or stronger to look out for him, or protect him when someone wanted to pick on him. But he could look after himself from now on.

He hoped.

Adjusting to WWE’s on-road schedule meant time evaporated, and after a mere month, even though Neville was receiving a positive response from the audience, he was yet to make any allies backstage. His correspondence with Sami and Kevin had become slack, but he was always far too tired from his new routine with so little down time. Sometimes he even woke up in his clothes from the day before. WWE executives advised Neville that driving with someone else would help with the initial exhaustion but he had no one to ask.

He sort-of found an ally, a kind wrestler by the name of Natalya (who Neville was sure only talked to him because she felt pity for him). He quizzed her about the locker room bullying, which had only gotten worse as the weeks went on, and she assured it was just initiation. All new recruits were subject to the same torment and she encouraged him to fight through it.

It didn’t inspire a lot of confidence in Neville. Still, he challenged himself to stay for another month to see how things went. Making a competition out of it helped.

As the days wore on and he felt more and more lonely, Neville feared that it would break him.

 

* * *

 

“Did you see his face when Barrett grabbed him? He looked like a rabid gnome!”

“And he wears that mouth guard like he’s on training wheels or something.”

“Typical eighteen.”

Neville’s heart pumped hot as he returned to the locker room after his match on Raw. There was blood dripping down his arm so he had been cut up somewhere. WWE was a wild house. Some of the wrestlers had a real chip on their shoulder and chose to wail on their opponents even after the bell final had rung.

“He’s such a fucking loser.”

Despite his head being down, fuming, the nasally drawl that persistently insulted him was unmistakably the WWE Champion, Seth Rollins. He didn’t understand, Seth was an eighteen like himself. A human caught in a perpetual age loop. It seemed unbelievable now, but Neville had actually looked up to him before he was signed to WWE. Seth was a great example that an eighteen could still be successful, even when surrounded by a locker room of wrestlers older than him. Too bad he wasn’t a great example of a decent human being.

“You got somethin’ to say to me, mate?” Neville yelled, tearing his wrist protector off and throwing it at Seth. The whole locker room went silent.

“Oh, tough guy, huh? Gonna talk back to the Champ, are ya? No one back chats me, unless I let ‘em!”

Neville’s locker came up on his shoulder hard as Seth shoved him. He stumbled back, catching his breath, which was already short from post-match exhaustion, and lunged at Seth. His attack ended prematurely as something clobbered him right in the face. Falling back on his ass, he could see it the bag from his locker. Seth grinned evilly and tipped it out over the linoleum floor. Clothes, phones, a football, his private belongings, strewn across for everyone to see.

“He ain’t so pretty anymore.”

“He wasn’t pretty in the first place.”

Neville whipped his head around to the voices behind him before he groaned, feeling the hot burn of his nose. He tapped his knuckles to the nostril and saw a streak of blood that was left behind.

“The fuck are you doin’?!” Neville cried, in complete disbelief that he was actually being bullied like this. A painful memory of getting the call from Stephanie McMahon flooded back to him. He had be so happy that day. This was supposed to be his emancipation, but he’d never been left so broken and humiliated in his life.

Seth Rollins whipped his head back to let out that awful hyena laugh. Neville stumbled to his feet, looking around. No-one was stepping forward at all. A few were leaning to whisper to each other and there was a hushed chuckle across the whole room, but no-one was _doing_ anything.

Was Neville really this disliked? Did no one care?

Was WWE that severely lacking of integrity?!

“Rollins. Cut it out.”

Neville looked up, wide eyed, to see Randy Orton knock Seth gently on the head, freezing him from his bullying rampage. Randy was also an eighteen but was highly respected in the locker room. He’d been around for a long time. A legend in his own right. Someone Neville had always aspired to.

The evil in Seth’s expression melted away and he pouted up to Randy, shoulders falling. “But--”

“Remember when people used to push you into lockers? You didn’t like that very much did you?” Randy crossed his arms across his chest smugly.

“... No.”

“Pick up his shit and apologise.”

More sniggers danced around the locker room as everyone slowly went back to what they had been doing before Seth harassed Neville. Seth grumbled uncooperatively as he shoved Neville’s belongings messily back into his bag. Neville made a small pathetic sound. His clothes were going to crease..

“Sorry,” Seth apologised, not genuine, eyes averted.

Neville took his bag back. “S’alright,” he shrugged, immediately wanting to kick himself for being such a pushover. He wondered if he would be able to work his way into a match with Rollins because he would find a great joy hitting a Red Arrow on him.

“You alright, kid?” Randy asked, and Neville hugged his bag into his chest nervously. It was weird to have someone who looked your age call you ‘kid’, but he knew Randy had to be at least eighteen and sixteen years of age. Neville chewed the inside of his lip, curious just as to how long exactly. He had questions.

“Yeah, thanks mate,” Neville replied simply, eyeing Seth who went back to admiring his reflection with the WWE Championship title around his waist smugly.

Neville swallowed as Randy gave him a pat on the shoulder before walking off. He felt his cheeks get warm and turned to hide his expression in his locker. Someone finally was looking out for him. Randy Orton no less.

Maybe things would start looking up.

 

* * *

 

Neville couldn’t stop thinking around Randy. As he drove, while he wrestled in the ring, when he worked out. He was embarrassed with how obsessed he had become with the Legend Killer. The only contact he’d had since the Seth incident was once passing Randy in the hallway during Smackdown where Neville asked how old he was.

“Eighteen,” Randy answered, winking, and strode away with a confident indifference.

Liar. Randy had been wrestling for sixteen years and he didn’t debut when he was two! Neville poured over all reading material and videos online that he could find on Randy and found enough contradictions to be certain that the Viper was far older than he let on. He might even be eighteen and fifty, Neville thought excitedly to himself. He had never met anyone who had stayed eighteen for more than twenty-five years, but if there was ever a place to find one- it was WWE.

Neville really wanted to speak with Randy again, but the guy was so enigmatic. He usually just showed up for a promo, his match, then vanished. Also Neville felt like his heart was going to explode with nerves any time he was near him.

“So, what’s the deal with Randy?” Neville asked Kalisto during a live show, an older luchador who was soulbound to another masked wrestler, and they made up a tag team called the Lucha Dragons. Neville had begun to make a bond with them after randomly being paired with them in a six-man tag match.

“The deal with Randy? He’s terrifying!” Kalisto explained, leaning in to lower his voice. “No one knows what he’s thinking, ever. Some people say he does things his head voices tell him to.”

Neville stared down the hallway, where Seth was speaking animatedly to a bored looking Randy next to the locker room door. “But Rollins seems to like him?”

“Yeah, but Seth Rollins is _loco._ ”

“I hear ya.”

Despite Kalisto’s warning, Neville wasn’t deterred. The next week, he caught Randy spinning a packet of cigarettes in his hand, making his way towards the stage door. This was it. Neville would be able to strike up a conversation with him while he went for a smoke break. He felt like an assassin stalking its contract as he followed Randy secretly from behind.

Randy disappeared through Stage Door G and Neville paused as it closed in front of him. He leant a hand on the cold metal door, composing himself. He took a great breath and forced the door open with vigor and--

Crashed right into someone.

“Woah, hey there now! You okay?”

Neville glanced up and blinked, realising he was in the arms of someone. His heart nearly tore out of his chest. Slightly taller, bright blond clinging to the ends of his curly hair and with a stunning smile that could inspire warmth in even the coldest of hearts. Neville forgot where he was for a moment, gaze caught in the captivating eyes of Dolph Ziggler.

“Randy, I went fishing and caught a beautiful babe!” Dolph wrapped an arm around Neville’s shoulders and rattled him endearingly. Something in his voice inspired goosebumps, cold and warm all at once.

It was only then that Neville noticed Randy, leaning on a nearby wall. He groaned with a roll of his eyes, turning his head to light a cigarette.

“Wh-what?” Neville blinked, heart now pounding. _Surely he wasn’t talking about.._

Dolph leaned close and winked sweetly, “Don’t worry, I’m used to it.”

“Oh okay,” was all Neville could reply.

Neville had been far too dazed from being called a ‘beautiful babe’ that it wasn’t until later that night when he was lying across his hotel bed, watching The Office on Netflix (Ricky Gervais version, of course) that he realised he had forgotten to talk to Randy altogether. Dolph had just been so captivating and distracted him completely. Damn it. He was really looking forward to talking to Randy about what it was like being an older eighteen.

Though, he was almost certain Dolph was an eighteen as well...

Neville’s thoughts interrupted as his phone rang suddenly. He answered it tiredly. “Hey Sami.”

“IT’S BEEN THREE WEEKS AND YOU HAVEN’T TRIED TO CONTACT US AT ALL.” Kevin’s boom on the other end was so frightening that Neville had to hold the phone away from his ear. “SAMI IS BESIDE HIMSELF. APOLOGISE.”

A shuffling ruckas could be heard on the line. “Hey Nev,” Sami greeted sadly. Neville’s chest twisted in pain.

“Hey, look, Sami I’m really sorry I haven’t called at all.”

“It’s alright.”

It wasn’t alright.

“It’s just so busy here. I’ve barely had a chance between shows and workin’ out, then we’re on the road to do it all over again, you know? I’m gettin’ ‘bout four hours of sleep a night and--” Even Sami’s breathing sounded melancholic. “Yeah, I fucked up, I’m sorry.”

“I said it’s alright, Nev. I just think about you a lot, you know? I want to know you’re doing good.”

“I am, Sami. Promise.”

There was a pause and a crackling that sounded like Kevin in the distance. Sami sighed hopelessly, voice brightening. “Kevin wants to know if you’ve got your eye on anyone yet?”

Dolph Ziggler’s dazzling smile came to mind immediately, his reassuring phantom touch flicking against Neville’s skin that made his heart catch and hair stand on end.

“Nev?”

Neville cleared his throat reactively, “N-Nah,” he laughed, hoping he didn’t sound too obviously nervous.

He could hear Sami grinning through the receiver, “Good. We wouldn’t want anyone stealing you from us, alright?”

“Of course.”

“I love you, boy-o.”

“Love you too,” Neville echoed and knew for certain there wasn’t a speck of authenticity left to those three words.


	2. Eternal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neville attends The Rock's birthday party. Dolph deals with past baggage.

“FINALLY! The Rock has come home.. to party!”

Despite his rough start in WWE, things were definitely picking up for Neville. Evidence none more than being invited to The Rock’s birthday party in a fancy Miami nightclub. A menagerie of people were in attendance: wrestlers, celebrities and the Samoan Dynasty alike.

“Neville, Adrian,” he yelled at the bouncer, opening and closing a fist anxiously. The giant bouncer, bald with piercings all up his ears, flipped through the clipboard in hand, crossed off a name and stamped Neville’s hand with a UV pattern before sending him off inside.

Miami was pumping to bass-heavy dance tracks that Neville had never heard before and honestly found it all a little intrusive. Laser patterns, strobe lights, neon colours everywhere. He hadn’t planned to drink but it didn’t seem like such a bad idea anymore to take the edge of his already throbbing head. Discovering that it was open bar made Neville wonder just who was paying for the celebration, sipping on ale as he observed groups of people arriving from a distance.

 **You’re living THE ROCK(star) lifestyle now ;)  
** **Don’t forget about the little people.**

**That was terrible. haha.  
It’s so bloody loud in here I can barely hear myself think.**

**I wish I could join you on the dance floor. You’ve got me in a mood now.**

**You’d rip it up for sure.**

Neville smiled at his phone as he sent off the message to Sami before sticking it in the back pocket of his slacks. Looking around, he felt like he was dressed way too formal in his plaid button up with hair pulled back in a tight bun. Most people had stuck to t-shirts and chinos or nice jeans. The girls were all in a gorgeous array of dresses and Neville wondered slack-jawed if he, in his lifetime, would ever achieve that level of grace.

The Lucha Dragons would be good company in an environment like this, and Neville didn’t have much of a choice in the way of friends, regardless. He weaved in and out of the party-goers, keeping an eye out for those signature masks. When he was skirting around a raised seating area overlooking the dance floor, a disturbance caught his attention- Dolph and Sheamus in midst a heated discussion. Dolph waving his arms animatedly like he did when he was speaking passionately about something.

Heart twisting with the rebellious decision to eavesdrop, Neville surreptitiously leant on a glass railing and pretended to be amused watching The Rock and, to a lesser degree, Mick Foley bust out some Michael Jackson-esque moves.

“Well I dunno what ‘appened to us either. All I know is I was fucking tired of figurin’ out all yer hidden meanin’s. You say one thing and do another, Ziggler, it’s fuckin’ exhaustin’.”

Sheamus was just audible over the noise of the club. Relationship issues? Neville had no idea Dolph and Sheamus were, or had been, a thing.

"I wasn't aware this was anything serious to you. You made it very clear what we were after Elimination Chamber last year."

"What?! There yer go again. Talkin' out your arse. Man, I'd sure like to make you kiss _me_ arse."

"Anytime, anywhere, baby!” Dolph laughed, before his voice darkened, “But that’s not why I wanted to talk to you, Shea-boy. Quit bringing my friends into it. You've become a real asshole, you know? And I don't like bullies."

Neville turned his gaze now, eyes glued at the confrontation over his shoulder. Sheamus snorted, standing threateningly over Dolph, who was trying to bulk himself up but ended up well and truly dwarfed.

"I’ll forever be kickin’ meself for fancin’ a short-arsed self-toutin’ ladies man like you that one time."

"I'm an everything man, babe. And you couldn’t get enough of me."

"You call me babe one more time and I rip yer stupid ramen hair out."

"The only one who looks stupid here is you."

"I. DO NOT. LOOK. STUPID!!"

Neville didn’t even think before he leapt between the two men, throwing up an arm to block a right hook from an alarmed Sheamus. Neville kept his ire controlled, staring the Celtic Warrior down (or up, technically). From what was said, it didn’t sound like Dolph was completely in the right but he also wasn’t the one who slammed a tray of food out of Neville’s hand on his first day in WWE.

"The fuck is this? Your new boyfriend or somethin'?" Sheamus spat.

Neville's heart froze.

"What's it to you?" Ziggler said, casually.

 _What?!_ Neville jerked his head back at Ziggler, stunned. Dolph made eyes back at him like ' _play along_ '.

"You boys are gonna get kicked out, or worse, a violation," Neville focused his gaze to Sheamus, jabbing a finger at him, threateningly. "I'm lookin out for both of yer’s best interests here."

Sheamus' nose twitched. After a second, he stood down, eyes flicking between the two men like a wary animal. “Bit o’ advice for ya. I wouldn’t waste yer time on ‘im,” he said with a tangible amount of vitirol, flicking his chin towards Dolp. He shouldered past Neville, rejoining the festivities.

Neville’s button-up felt a size too small as his chest expanded with frustration. “Well, he’s a right wanker, ain’t he?”

“I’m too old for this shit,” Dolph growled, grabbing an empty flute of champagne from a nearby end table and aimed to hurtle it at the orange mohawk glowing hovering above the nearby crowd. Heart in his throat, Neville frantically swiped for the glass and snatched it away. Dolph fell forward and Neville had to ground a foot behind him as they ended in a tangled, heaving embrace.

“Dolph, you nearly just threw glass into a crowd of people!” Neville urged after the shock wore away, shaking the sense back into him.

The ire on Dolph’s expression plateaued, panting until he relaxed defeatedly all at once. It was painfully obvious now that Dolph was already a few drinks deep, depressant of the alcohol affecting his emotional state. Despite not knowing the full extent of the story, Neville felt really sorry for him.

"Hey, are you alright?" Neville asked, finding the worry in his voice embarrassing.

Dolph’s eyes widened as if he wasn’t used to receiving concern. His eyes focused over Neville’s shoulder bitterly. “Don’t worry about me, kid. I’m used to it.”

Neville felt his forehead crease with concern. Seemed like the ostentatious Showoff found himself caught up in relationship turmoil more often than he’d like. Honestly, Neville wasn’t surprised. “It seems like you liked him, though,” he said sensitively.

"Once maybe," Dolph shrugged.

“He’s not your...?”

“Nah,” Dolph snorted, then looked up to the laser light patterns on the ceiling, features a tempest of emotions. “Known Sheamus for six years.” He suddenly smirked flirtatiously as if his lapse in personality hadn’t even happened. “How do I look?”

“Not a day over eighteen,” Neville chuckled dryly and Dolph joined him, but there was no mirth to it. They both understood the pain of being trapped in life’s cruel age loop. How many years had Dolph been trapped though, Neville desperately wondered.

They parted ways when Dolph wanted to get some fresh air, and Neville found himself enjoying The Rock’s party after stopping the potential disaster from breaking out, his good deed for the day. The Lucha Dragons were on the dance floor performing some very impressive breakdancing routines, and after, Kalisto caught up with Neville by the bar.

“It’s all in the hips,” Kalisto panted lightly, sipping on a plastic cup of water when Neville quizzed him about where he learned to dance so well.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Neville laughed.

Sin Cara rejoined them, having allowed himself a couple of tequila shots before he dragged his soulmate back onto the dance floor for round two. Neville snorted humourously and waved them off.

The music was turned down within the next hour for speeches. Along with a whole parade of actors and musicians sharing funny anecdotes about the guest of honour, Stone Cold made an appearance to give Rock a birthday stunner.

In the early hours of the morning, groups began to separate, planning an array of after-parties. Neville decided he was all tuckered out and dug into his pocket for a little ticket he was given earlier so he could retrieve his jacket from the coat room. When he was tossing up whether to get a taxi or just walk back to his hotel, he spotted a Greek eatery across the beach strip and a sudden craving for gyros figuratively punched him in the gut.

Neville ducked paparazzi hawking around the entrance of the nightclub and found a found a quiet seat at the back of the eatery, chewing on his late night snack in one hand while checking text messages with the other. There were a lot from Kevin, explaining that he and Sami would be in California next month to work a string of indie shows. He was hoping they could catch up if WWE was crossing their path at any point.

“Oh my god, is that _WWE Superstar Neville T.M._?!”

Halfway through a reply to Kevin, Neville glanced up suddenly. Dolph was hovering over his table, phone camera pointed at him. Big E was close by, hands awkwardly crossed over his elbows and studying the fading backlit menu with interest.

“Good one, kid,” Dolph laughed, showing him the photo he snapped of Neville who looked like a deer in headlights. Very unflattering.

“Oh, that’s garbage, delete that,” Neville grimaced, trying to swipe for the phone but Dolph was too quick.

“I promise,” he sniggered. When he realised Neville didn’t find much humour in it, he relaxed his shoulders and smiled pleasantly. “I just came in to say, thanks for saving me back there, Nev.”

"Anytime," Neville said absent-mindedly, and went beet red as Dolph raised his eyebrows in interest. “Ah- I mean--”

“Hey, we’re all going back to Woods’ place after this with the New Day guys, if you want to join,” he touched E’s upper arm sweetly, which made Neville grit his teeth for some reason. “You know Nev, right?”

“‘Ey,” Big E greeted boredly, eyes still focused on the menu.

An anxious feeling gripped Neville’s chest. Being invited to a private party with a lot of people he didn’t know well and who probably didn’t want him there? Also, it seemed like Dolph and Big E were going to be hooking up so that severely limited the amount of people Neville actually had spoken to before. Sami would’ve taken up the invitation in a heartbeat, of course, and probably would’ve dragged Neville along too. But Sami wasn’t here.

“I’m exhausted,” Neville half-lied, “I’m just goin’ta head back to my hotel and rest, I think.”

“We have methods of helping that,” Big E said, finally glancing to Neville curiously.

Neville laughed but it was embarrassingly broken and awkward. “No thanks.”

Dolph pat Neville endearingly on the shoulder, causing little warm tingles in its wake. “Well, thanks again anyway. I would’ve had a real crappy night if you didn’t intervene earlier.”

Neville blinked, then blurted out, "Tell ya what, I'll fight Sheamus on Monday and give him the shock of his life. I don’t like these heavyweights picking on us smaller lads." He glanced to E, “No offence.”

Big E shrugged, then pulled out his wallet and went to order food at the counter.

Dolph’s laughed with some degree of concern. "Nice offer, kid, but Sheamus ain’t no walk in the park. And you're.. _well_ \--"

Neville's jaw set. "You have no idea what I'm capable of."

Dolph’s eyes widened, then a smile pulled at his mouth, pleased and surprised. "You're right, I don't."

 

* * *

 

Sparks of electricity shot through Neville’s veins as the audience hollered and cheered. They adored the presence of Dolph, a tenured veteran, and Neville felt like the luckiest man alive to be able to share that energy, making the hair on this neck stand on end. It was certainly a feeling he could get used to.

Neville had challenged Sheamus a week after The Rock’s party, just as he promised, but it didn’t go to plan and Dolph ran in and save him from a brutal post-match wailing. Two against one, Sheamus brought in his buddy, Bad News Barrett, who would talk down to them about being height-impaired, useless eighteens. It made Neville’s blood boil.

So when Dolph ZigZagged Barrett to the mat by the turnbuckle, Neville’s heart pumped wildly on the cusp of proving them so, so wrong.

He leapt onto the top rope and turned his glance as Sheamus dragged Dolph under the bottom rope. Neville was about to deviate from the plan and pull off a corkscrew somersault to save his tag partner instead, but Dolph drove a superkick under Sheamus’ chin, sending the Irishman tumbling on his _arse_.

Dolph whipped his hair, stumbling back and caught Neville’s wide-eyed gaze with his own. Then, something _happened_. Something Neville had never felt before. Something he’d experienced not even with Kevin or Sami. The room seemed to close in on him as his heartbeat calmed and in some strange way he knew that he was synchronised with Dolph. Two wrestlers coming together in a perfect storm of teamwork, able to devastate any enemy in their path.

Neville twisted through the air and landed the Red Arrow square on Barrett. The referee slammed the mat for three and the arena thundered, victorious with them. Neville hurled himself into Dolph messily, exhausted, but heart dancing on cloud nine. Dolph brought him in sidewards.

“Thank you so much,” Neville breathed as Dolph pressed his mouth by his temple, patting sweet little shivers of validation against his back.

“You’re.. _incredible_ , kid. I’m a fool for ever doubting you.”

_Wow._

The referee pried them apart to hold their wrists up in victory, Neville throwing his head back, soaking in the atmosphere. He blinked back dampness as Dolph grabbed his hand, holding it up again and pointed to him. _Endorsing_ him to the audience. There were people on their feet in ovation, clapping high above their heads.

This was it.

This was what he had been desperately seeking for nine years.

It was no longer Kevin and Sami (plus Neville).

 _Just_ Neville. Unique and unmistakable.


	3. Infinite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seth's an asshole (no surprises here). Neville's Sherlock Holmesing starts to pay off. Dolph serenades Neville in the middle of the desert.

The short-lived tag team with Dolph granted Neville a greatly improved reputation in the locker room. He finally had the WWE routine almost completely figured out, and the exhaustion wasn’t wearing on him as much as it did when he first started with the company. People started calling him the ‘New Sensation’ and his old nickname, the ‘Man That Gravity Forgot’, from the indies seemed to make its way onto the lips of his peers. It was good. Really fucking good. Nothing could bring Neville down.

 _Almost_ nothing.

Neville was backstage at Raw, heading to the locker room with a spring in his step after a meeting with Chief Operating Office, Steph McMahon. His request to answer John Cena’s US Title Open Challenge had finally been approved thanks to the momentum he had built lately. Mind fixated on preparing for the match, he accidentally bumped into Seth Rollins in the hallway and that apparently was enough to set the Champion on a violent rampage.

“JUST SHOVE ME, HUH? YOU WANNA START SOMETHING WITH ME, PIPSQUEAK? YOU WANNA START SOMETHING WITH ME?”

Neville felt his back come up hard on a roadcase and tumbled forward onto his knees. Too winded to stand or react, Seth’s foot came down on his neck, smashing his face into the concrete. As he lay limp, body in absolute pain, a distant hyena laugh was the only sound audible over the ringing in his ears. Neville couldn’t tell how long he must have been sprawled out there, eventually wobbling to his elbows, blinking rapidly from the pink dyeing his vision.

“Kid? Oh my god, _KID?!_ ”

A pair of worried hands were on Neville, helping him to a sit. His head slumped against a warm body, blearily opening his eyes and squinting from the bright backstage halogens.

“Ziggler?” Neville croaked.

"What the fuck happened?!" Dolph panicked. There was another silhouette hovering over him.

Neville groaned, head lolling. "Rollins."

"Jesus Christ," the silhouette muttered, crouching down. It was.. Randy? "Blood's fuckin' everywhere. Hold him upright, Dolph, I'll go get someone."

Dolph gripped Randy’s arm hard, jolting Neville a bit, forcing him to pay attention. "Control your fucking boyfriend,” he hissed, harsh and unhumourous.

"I dunno,” Randy grumbled, tearing his arm away. “He's got, like, daddy issues or some shit."

Neville must have checked out for a moment before Dolph was patting life back into him against his cheek. "Kid, you still there?"

"Yeah," Neville grimaced.

"How's your head feel?"

"Had better days," he managed to grin, metallic taste swirling on his tongue.

Dolph laughed sympathetically. "You're tough, kid, I'll give you that."

Neville made a sudden whine in realisation. “My match tonight. It’s important! I have to--” He tried to stand but his head throbbed with acute pain and he uselessly fell back into Dolph’s hold.

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s happening,” Dolph said regretfully.

Neville slumped in defeat, so much ire building in his throat. Fuck Seth Rollins. How did Randy stand him? How did _anyone_ stand him? “That asshole. I’m gonna fuckin’... I’ll.. _fuck._ ”

“Easy, kid, easy.” Dolph stroked the back of his head hypnotically.

If Neville weren’t so furious about being attacked before his first title match in WWE, Dolph’s simple gesture of compassion probably would have lulled him dangerously into a deep infatuation.

 

* * *

 

“So, how old are you?” Dolph asked, SUV humming to a silence after pulling into a roadside diner’s carpark. He swung the keys around his finger casually.

Neville was observing the conspicuous bandage on his forehead in the mirror. “Eighteen and ten years,” he answered, before flipping the sunvisor up with a snap. Dolph had been driving with Neville while his head healed for the past week, which was as equally surprising as Neville was grateful. Maybe it was because they tag teamed for a bit, but Dolph seemed to be looking out for him, which was a grand relief to have someone in the locker room he could trust. “You?”

“Eighteen and thirty-six.”

Neville’s finger nearly caught in the door as he slammed it. He nursed his hand in shock. “What? Really?!”

“Hey, I’m only old on the inside. Sexy on the outside,” Dolph wiggled his eyebrows as they walked towards the diner entrance.

“No, that’s bloody fantastic!” Neville said, face all lit up. “For some reason I thought Randy was the only one who could possibly be that old. I mean-- You know what I mean! I’ve never met anyone who was eighteen for more than twenty-five years.. _Wow_. Sorry, I’m just in a bit o’ shock.” He smiled at the ground. “I guess that makes sense why you guys are friends, then.”

“I wouldn’t say we’re ‘ _friends_ ’,” Dolph scratched under his chin thoughtfully. “We’ve just known each other for a long time.”

From their diner dinner to the drive to El Paso, Dolph answered all of Neville’s questions (to his absolute delight) about what it was like to have eclipsed well over the average age of finding a soulmate.

“Why you so interested in all this, anyway?” Dolph yawned, leaning on the desk at their hotel as the concierge disappeared to collect their room keys.

Neville averted his eyes self-consciously, “I feel like I’m gonna be eighteen forever. Or, if not, for a really really long time. I mean, I look like some crazy elf man. No-one’s gonna love this.” When he caught Dolph frowning, he quickly backtracked with a blatant lie, “I-I’m just messin’ with ya, Dolph. It’s a joke.”

Dolph blinked, then chuckled hopelessly. “That dry British sense of humour always gets me.” When they were handed their room keys and took the elevator, Dolph held the automatic door open as he was halfway onto his floor. “I’ve never met anyone like you, kid. Honestly.”

“Oh.” Neville half-smiled back to him. “Goodnight, Dolph.”

“Sleep well, Nev.”

As the doors met in the middle and the elevator whirred back into action, Neville was consciously aware of how airy his chest felt, how warm his cheeks were. _Never met anyone like you_. That was pretty special, Neville thought, considering Dolph had been alive for over half a century.

 

* * *

 

The quest to find out how old Randy was pushed on. Neville was determined and when he set his mind to something, you better believe he was going to accomplish it by any means possible (as long as no one got hurt). That night was a long haul drive to San Diego, almost a nine hour trip if one took no stops, so it was better to travel with at least two other mates and take turns. Neville asked Randy if he wanted to join Dolph and himself and, unbelievably, he said yes (though Dolph insisted it was just so he could get away from Seth for a night).

Neville’s head had healed enough to drive again but he took the first shift anyway, not wanting to put anyone in danger if exhaustion caused headaches from the Seth’s attack to flare up again. They stopped at an eatery on the way, but the food was abysmal, so a second pitstop at a Tucson gas station was needed to fill up the SUV and buy out every protein bar available in its humble snack aisle.

Randy took the wheel and turned onto the Interstate 8. To keep each other awake on the long, straight road, they chatted about everything from shoplifting anecdotes to their most hilarious high school memories (Randy’s stories were the funniest and Dolph got unapologetically frustrated at that). Neville managed to guide the conversation to how old they all were, and he caught Dolph’s brow crease suspiciously.

“I’m ten years older than this idiot,” Randy answered ambiguously, shooting a smug glance to Dolph. So, that would make him eighteen and forty-six. _Wow._ Neville found himself completely starstruck (moreso than the first time he had met both of them).

Cupping his hands like a megaphone, Dolph yelled, “BLOCKED!” and he and Randy play fought in the front seats until the car haphazardly veered off the road and stalled. Gripping his chest, Neville breathed quickly with the fun and games suddenly soured.

“This is your fault,” Randy snorted, punching Dolph in the arm one last time before turning the car key. The SUV revved, then spluttered.

“That doesn’t sound right,” Neville offered from the back seat.

“No, it doesn’t,” Randy said.

They all got out and inspected the engine. When it was fine, Randy got back into the car to discover that they’d run out of gas. Neville realised he had forgotten to fill up the car at their Tucson pitstop, gut twisting guiltily as he saw Dolph suppress a look of frustrated disappointment. Randy assured him it they were all at fault with a consoling pat but Neville still felt horrible. To cap it off, they were so far in the desert that none of their phones had service to call for help.

“There’s a bed and breakfast a few miles down the road,” Randy said, casting a gaze up to the clear sky, stars bright and flickering. “I should be able to borrow their car and get some gas.”

“How do you know that?” Neville asked.

Randy and Dolph swapped a glance before he shrugged, “Driven this route enough times.” He pointed at the other two men sternly, “I’ll go. Watch the car while I’m gone, alright?”

“You sure you don’t need someone to hold your hand in the dark?” Dolph smirked. His way of offering to help, surely.

“Watch. The. Car,” Randy repeated flatly and then broke into a jog down the interstate.

Dolph sighed, crossing his arms and they watched in silence as the Viper slithered away into the darkness. They sat in the car boredly for about half an hour before they decided to get out and walk around, sneakers crunching over the warm sand. That particular night was nearing a full moon, casting a bright glow onto the barren landscape. Neville kept his eye out for scorpions, bare ankles already itching from the spiny sagebrush.

“Hey!” Dolph called out, waving his hand, already half a football field ahead of Neville. “Check this out!”

Neville was shocked to find an oasis only half a mile out from the road. It wasn’t large, probably as wide and deep as a public kiddy pool. He crouched down to splash some of the clear water on his face, pleased to find it was cold and fresh, waking him up a bit.

“Cool oasis,” Dolph nodded in approval, then swung to look behind him with a smirk. “But, I wonder where that wall is.”

“Wall?” Neville raised an eyebrow.

Dolph spun on the spot, lunging forward with his arms spread. “ _Because maaaybee~_ ” he serenaded.

“Oh my _god,_ ” Neville groaned with embarrassment, blushing in spite of himself.

“ _You’re gonna be the one that saves meeeeeee~_ ” Dolph tore his hair band out and let his curly mane free, singing into the water bottle microphone he had brought with him from the car. “ _And after aaaallll…_ ”

“ _You’re my wonderwaaaaall~_ ” Neville joined in, horribly off pitch.

The note died in the Sonoran Desert air and the two men stared at each other before bursting into laughter. Dolph pulled his phone out to take a selfie, insistent that he immortalise the moment. Neville’s breath caught as he was buddied up close, their cheeks pressed together. He smiled bashfully as Dolph pulled a cheesy grin.

“Forward that to me, when you can?” Neville asked boldly, heart racing.

“One better, I’ll put it on twitter,” Dolph winked and Neville’s mouth twisted wryly, trying to hide the abounding admiration he had for the Showoff.

Dolph went to check if Randy had returned, leaving Neville by the oasis with nothing but the stars and wind rustling through twisted shrubs. Sometimes he could hear something scuttling, echoing off the stones. He crouched to wash the sand from his hands, and saw an elf owl drinking from the water, directly across from him. It looked up and stared at him with wide eyes, as if it were surprised Neville was there at all. It turned its head suddenly and took flight, coo cutting through the crisp air.

“He’s not back,” Dolph called out before jogging up to the oasis.

“Do you think he’s okay?” Neville wondered.

“Yeah, let’s give it another half hour.”

They found a large, flat rock to sit on a hundred or so yards away and Neville took back a drink of water, nearly spitting it out as Dolph began to strip.

“The bloody ‘ell are you doing?!”

Dolph laid out on the rock in nothing but his underwear and converse sneakers, looking extremely proud of himself. “Moonbaking.”

Neville shook his head with a hopeless exhale, “Yer out of yer right mind.” After a minute or so, he laid back as well, feeling his ponytail mingle with Dolph’s curly ends. “Know the names of any constellations?”

“Nup,” Dolph passed over the question dismissively, causing Neville’s chest to squeeze a little. What he brought up next was completely unexpected. “So, who’s this Sami and Kevin?”

Neville blinked and sat up on his elbow abruptly. The question which seemed to come from nowhere. He looked at Dolph, who cracked an eye to look at him, and wondered just how long this had been on his mind.

“They’re my best friends.” Neville answered honestly, “I met them in the indies when I was sixteen.”

“Wow, you got started in the biz young, huh?”

“Yah. We were like a lil’ force to be reckoned with. Kept a solid monopoly on the scene for years. America, Canada and the UK mainly. Kevin and Sami dominated with Championships. At one point they held about twelve titles between them, or something?”

“Not you, though?” Dolph sat up and crossed his legs, brow creased.

“Oh, I had a couple minor ones.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I was the youngest, and World Champions need to be better talkers, anyway, so--” Neville trailed off, feeling guilty for feeling bitter over it. “I’m better with me in-ring stuff. Supportin’ them, ya know?”

“So, what happened?”

“What you mean?”

“Well, you’re here in WWE and they’re not. If you were a happy little threesome, what happened?”

Neville winced and Dolph’s face fell.

“Sorry, kid. I shouldn't have pried.”

“No, no, it's alright. Um. They, uh--” Neville closed his eyes hard, forcing the words out of his throat with difficulty. “--grew up without me.”

Dolph’s mouth parted, wholesomely invested in what Neville had to say, who cleared his throat dolefully before continuing.

“People used to hate on us a lot in the indies because we didn't really let anyone into our little stable. But we were so close. Closer than any other team or group out there. That’s why we were so successful, you know? We travelled everywhere together, trained together, slept together- ah!- I mean, well, we didn’t have a lot of money so we rented motels if we couldn’t crash somewhere for free. It was pretty unglamourous. Generally we did, um, share the one bed and Kevin ain’t a small lad, you know, so, it was… eventually…” Neville's words failed him, unable to find the best way to explain it without sounded like a complete idiot.

"You love them," Dolph finished for him, voice stirring and soft.

Was it that obvious? _Hah._ Neville picked at the rock, blinking hard a few times. "Sami at first,” he confessed, “Then Kevin too. I thought... I dunno, it was dumb but I thought all three of us were gonna… bind."

Dolph frowned. "Have you told anyone about this?"

"N-No, never," Neville swallowed, staring at a cactus that kind of looked like the silhouette of the dancing girl from Jericho's old titantron. His heart began to pound as a tender hand was placed over his on the rock, and he whipped his gaze back to Dolph, blue eyes catching the moonlight handsomely.

"It's been like, ten years since then, right?" Dolph said, low and sensitive.

"Nine."

"Okay, nine. Nev, you can either try make it work with Sami and Kevin while you remain unbound; you’ll mature with them mentally but you won’t age. It’s not impossible but I guarantee you, it won’t be an easy life, and you run the risk of pissing away the chance of finding a soulmate.” Dolph’s eyes flickered, downward, conflicted. “And eventually, they’ll pass away. They’ll leave you on this Earth. So, you’ll have to start a new life in a new generation. If that were me, I’d be so exhausted.”

Neville’s hand tensed, and Dolph interlocked their fingers sweetly.

“Kid, I’m nearly.. _fifty-five_ and I haven't found my soulmate. Same with Randy. There's more to life than soulmates, I promise. You don’t have to let your life revolve around whether you’re gonna find one or not."

Neville fought tears. “I don’t want to live forever,” he grimaced.

“You’re still so young, kid,” Dolph chuckled warmheartedly. “Why are you already setting yourself up for failure?”

It was the first time Neville had opened up about his turmoil with being an eighteen to anyone and his chest felt as prickly and spiny as the cacti that surrounded them. Guilt and grief and confusion about his relationship with his two best friends ripped at him from all sides like a gale-force wind. And yet, Dolph’s words were so kind about such a delicate, unique issue and exactly what he needed to hear.

Dolph was a playboy, a jester, and a jerk at times, but his heart was good. Neville was certain of it.

Under the stars and between the desert crag, Dolph's gaze flicked over Neville, eyelids heavy before leaning in for a kiss. Frozen in time, Neville felt his world come undone at the seams. Unsure of how to react, there was nothing at all but the smell of Dolph’s hair and the taste of Dolph’s lips. Then it was over as soon as it had come, the Showoff pulling away gently, features somewhere between smug and coy.

"You can punch me if want," Dolph mewled through half-lids.

"Just... surprised," Neville croaked.

"I know, I have that effect on people," he sighed dramatically, shaking his hair back.

"I mean," Neville paused, squeezing Dolph’s thumb between his fingers. "People don't, um, _kiss_ _me_ often."

“Why not?”

“I, uhm--”

"Who was the last person you kissed?" Dolph tilt his head curiously, jaw perfectly sculpted in the moonlighting and still very nearly naked.

"Sami," Neville flushed with embarrassment, heart at a million miles an hour.

“What are you guys, exactly?” Dolph’s teeth tugged at his lip, as if he was worried at how bold the question was.

“I don’t know anymore. I--” Neville intook a terrified breath, mind foggy and confused. Dolph put his other hand to Neville’s arm, offering comfort. “-- don’t love them anymore.”

Dolph nodded sensitively. His eyes warmed, but not pityingly, and the hand slid upwards to rest on Neville's cheek. "Well, then, may I kiss you again?"

Neville hesitated, heart blooming in his chest and fevered yearning lower still. Technically, he had never spoken about this with Kevin and Sami, so saying yes to Dolph would be impossibly stupid. Neville was smarter than this. Sami and Kevin didn’t know that his feelings over the last two years had changed. But Neville also hadn’t known it was possible for someone like him to find affection outside of those two. And Dolph was a-- he was something _new_. No strings attached. Something that could be purely experimental.

This would destroy Sami. Then Kevin kill him for hurting his soulmate. But...

But they weren’t bound with Neville!

Sami _chose_ Kevin long before they even discovered they were soulbound. Neville had always, _always_ been the consolation prize.

“Yes,” Neville consented resolutely.

Dolph’s eyes lit up in relief, leaning in to steal a quick chaste kiss. Their noses touched, breath coming short but quickly. Intoxicating. He drew Neville in, hot and desperate, the two men tangling with each other as profoundly as the night they came together in the ring victoriously.

A moan tore from Neville as Dolph pulled them together horizontally, limbs entwined and cocks alert, bucking upwards, torturously good. Neville was cheating. It was wrong, but at the same time it was so exhilarating and Neville had never, ever felt this way in his life.

As Dolph hungrily sucked at his neck and ground their hips together, Neville surrendered himself unconditionally to the Showoff’s desires.

 

* * *

 

“You should get some rest,” Randy said, flicking cigarette ash out of the window, car bouncing softly as it careened down the interstate. Dolph was passed out in the back seat, evident by his breathy snoring.

Neville, staring blankly at the never-ending road, made a noncommittal noise back and jolted when Randy gave his knee a squeeze.

“Something happen out there?” Randy asked suspiciously.

“Nah, just tired,” Neville lied, rubbing his eye and Randy didn’t investigate further, to his relief. His pocket buzzed twice, one after the other, and Neville frowned, pulling out his phone.

[9:46pm] **Where the fuck are you? You know Sami checked WWE’s tour dates since you never bothered to tell us and guess what? We’ll all be in LA on the same fucking day. I was gonna invite you to our PWG show if you were free but I’d rather give that ticket to Cornette that’s how fucking pissed off I am. Are you trying to avoid us or something? Don’t care about us anymore or something? You know I’ve been comforting Sami for pretty much a week now because he thinks you’ve left us and he’s fucking devastated. Your serious lack of communication here is astounding. It’s been ten years and we’ve given you everything, our support, our house, our hearts. I’ve never been so fucking furious in my life, I hope you know. Fucking get back to right me now, Nev.**

[11:02pm] **Yeah whatever. Don’t fucking talk to me anymore.**

Kevin. The messages were sent while they were stuck in the deadzone. Maybe even while he and Dolph were...

Neville felt dizzy in his seat, stomach churning with bile. He cracked the window a little on his side and pressed his forehead firmly against the cool glass to stop himself from throwing up. The kiss replayed in his mind. Dolph's tender lips. Dolph’s warm, loving, erotic touch.

When Neville swiped his thumb across the lock screen, the message app appeared, already opened to Kevin’s contact. There was a half written response in the message box unsent from nearly three weeks ago.

**Hey Kev! I just got out from The Rock’s party. It was propa set-up AND an open bar. Madness, ay?! How have you and Sami been? Really, really missing you guys. Okay RE: work dates, I’ll be in Texas all next week. Then it’s Albuquerque, El Paso, San Diego, LA, San Jose, SF and Sacramento. What exact dates are you in Cali because we mi**

Neville stared at his unsent message unbelievably. Clenching his jaw, he turned his shoulder away from Randy and pretended to sleep. Gradually, he sunk deeper into his seat as if it were a coffin. They had only just passed through Tacma. At Yuma, they would need to wake up Dolph for the final four hours of the trip. _Hold it in. Hold it in you fucking git._

Dawn had broken on the horizon by the time they reached San Diego. Neville didn’t say a word to Dolph or Randy, not even a thanks or good night. He trudged defeatedly up to his hotel room and collapsed on the bed, too exhausted to cry.

When his phone buzzed, fear gripped him like he was being struck repeatedly with ragged nails. What horrid, true things was Kevin going to yell at him for now? Neville winced preemptively as he brought the phone to his face.

**@HEELZiggler mentioned you in a photo: “new bffs formed w/@WWENeville in the des(s)ert! word is on the street we got lost & found an @oasis (backbeat)”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um, yeah.
> 
> #yikes


	4. Unbroken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neville confronts Kevin and Sami at the PWG show about their relationship. Seth issues an open challenge for his WWE World Heavyweight Championship.

By the time Neville reached Redesa, a steamy rain was peltering onto the windscreen of his rental, wipers on as high as they could go. The only available parking space near American Legion Post 308 was down the road. Neville went searching in both the backseat and trunk in hopes of finding an umbrella (there wasn’t, and why would there be, he was in California), so he booked it down the footpath to the event hall. Finding a window to do a last minute check over his appearance, he saw that hair had become frizzy as hell from the humidity. _Bugger it._ With a sigh, he slipped on a pair of sunglasses and head on inside.

“Sorry man, we’re at capacity.”

Colt Cabana was at a modest front desk in the foyer, feet on the fold-out table, lazily leaning back on a plastic chair to watch what was happening through the half open double-doors. A few PWG t-shirts were laid out in front of him, each with the prices written on little tears of paper. From inside could be heard the exciting ambiance of a four star match.

“Colt, it’s me, brother,” Neville said, pulling his sunglasses down.

“PAC?” Colt nearly tipped over his chair and burst out into great guffaws that made Neville’s gut twist sourly. Coming to the PWG show in disguise had been Sin Cara’s idea: four day old stubble, the baggiest shirt he owned (one of Kevin’s old ice hockey jerseys) and a beanie which was pulled down over the tips of his ears. Now he just felt daft. “Holy shit, what are you doing here?!”

“It’s just Neville now,” he frowned, pushing the sunglasses up his nose and crossing his arms uncomfortably. “I came to watch Sami and Kevin’s match. They don’t know I’m here.”

“Shit, sorry, _Neville~_ ” Colt snickered and wiped a tear from his eye. “I didn’t think you liked using your real name.”

“Things change,” Neville shrugged, and he apparently wasn’t the only one. Colt had aged considerably since the last time they’d seen each other; now well into his aesthetic thirties. Of course, Neville looked no different from the first PWG show he worked, other than a lot more muscular. “You don’t keep up with WWE?”

“Punk’d kill me if I did,” Colt smirked, tapping a finger on the table idly. “Since you betrayed us, you better pay me for a ticket or I’m not going to let you in.”

Neville sighed, pulling out his wallet. A deafening slam followed by a hurrah of cheers exploded from the ballroom.

“I’m only joking, man!” Colt laughed that laugh again which made Neville feel like the smallest person alive.

Neville slammed down two fifties, “Keep it. Go buy drinks for the boys or somethin’.”

Colt blinked at the money before pocketing it smugly. “Or did you just come here to show off your Vinny cash now?”

“Good to see you too, Colt,” Neville muttered through grit teeth and didn’t wait to be escorted into the ballroom. He slid across the back wall quietly and stared over the tops of his sunglasses at the match well under way. Matt Sydal hit a moonsault plancha to Chris Sabin on the outside, getting the entire audience on their feet, hands at to their heads in shock and adulation.

Sabin was setting up an overhead belly-to-belly when a firm and uncompromising hand grabbed Neville’s arm, ripping him sidewards and into the backstage door. The wall came up hard on his back as he was shoved, winded as Kevin’s imposing figure stood over him. The sounds of the ballroom were replaced with the familiar ambient hum of backstage, echoingly distant in the unglamourous hallway.

Neville winced as the beanie and sunglasses were ripped from his person and thrown against the wall in fury. Well, his disguise lasted all of fifteen seconds, at least.

“Kevin!”

“The fuck are you doing here?” Kevin snarled, raspy and dangerous. The same snarl when someone was about to get majorly fucked up. Neville had heard it before, plenty of times, but it was never, _ever_ directed at him.

Heartbeat hot and fast, breath coming in short, Neville forced out a meek, “I-I came to watch your ma--”

“What gives you the right? You never fucking answered my texts. Nothing. _Rien_.”

“You blocked my number, man!”

“Nev?!”

They both turned, seeing Sami in a doorway, backlit by the warm hues of the greenroom. His eyes danced between them in quick, confused flicks, like he couldn’t trust his own vision. Neville felt his emotions come undone as he met Sami’s face break out into a disbelieving grin. He was certain..

He didn’t think Sami would be happy to see him.

There was nothing shy about the way Sami kissed Neville as they crashed into a hug. His heart staggered, finding Sami’s soft sides with trembling fingers. Squeezing gently, the rush of every good feeling he’d ever had with his boyfriends since he was sixteen washed over him in the form of goosebumps. Sami scooped Neville up like it hadn’t been weeks that they’d been apart, but years. It was warm and good and, _oh god_ , Adrian Neville was the most terrible person alive. Even as Sami's hold loosened to pull away, Neville held fast and Sami hugged tighter, sighing with relief.

"Sami what the fuck," Kevin said hopelessly, voice weak and betrayed. "After what he did?"

Neville's stomach turned inside out.

"But he's _here_ , Kev. That means something. I forgive him."

"I don't."

They talked as if he wasn’t even in the room. The warm feelings from the reunion was gone in an instant and Neville tore his arms away to step back, keeping his gaze pointed at the ground. "I was hopin' to catch you after the show, but, fuck it, I have somethin' to say to both of you."

They caught each other's eyes silently before Sami nodded with an encouraging smile and Kevin crossed his arms, mouth twisting.

"Better be a fucking apology," he grumbled.

"I'm sorry I hurt you both," Neville said sincerely, "But, honestly, I've been feelin' a ton of pressure lately. The WWE schedule is insane, when I say I'm exhausted and it slips my mind to call ya both, I mean it. I'm not tryin’ to avoid you, or hurt you, or make you upset, Sami--"

Sami shot Kevin a vexed look as if he wasn’t supposed to have said anything to Neville.

"I can't keep checking in with both of you constantly,” Neville continued, “That can't be my priority because I just don't have the time. And besides, you have each other, you're bound."

"We're all bound," Sami reminded, just like he always had. The gesture was no longer comforting.

"No!” Neville made a noise of exasperation. “We're not. You two are. You.. Ya don't know what it feels like. I know you care but I don't.. I don’t know _who I am_.” He pat his chest for emphasis. “I've been with you both since I was pretty much a kid. I’ve never known anything else.”

“Neither have we,” Kevin intoned. His eyes narrowed, “Did something happen?”

Neville sighed through a grimace, shoulders falling. “I just need time.. away,” he said softly, eyes at the ground.

No-one made a sound, Ricochet’s theme music rattling against the backstage door. A kiss was pressed against Neville’s forehead and he looked up to see a warm-faced Sami. _Wait, what?_

“Well, Nev, we kinda figured it was possible you’d--” Sami smiled up to Kevin and put an arm around his back, budding them together, “-- want to do some self-searching outside of us. We love you, dearly, boy-o, but if you have to go and do some exploring by yourself, well, then..”

Kevin grumbled something in French-Canadian and Sami elbowed him.

“We’ll always be here for you,” Sami finished Kevin’s part for him.

That was disappointingly supportive. There they went again acting more like Neville’s parents, than his partners. A part of his heart fell away, like a chunk of erosion from a windy cliffside. When they were younger, Neville thought himself the luckiest boy in the world to be able to say he had not one, but two boyfriends that he loved with all his heart and the feelings were mutual. Everything was new. Sloppy, nervous and terrifying, but always, _always_ wonderful. Until..

The worst day of his life was when Sami ran out of the bathroom, two days after his nineteenth birthday, pointing at a single wrinkle by his eye. Kevin had a lone grey hair in his beard that none of them could believe they hadn’t noticed. Neville would never forget the puzzled look on the doctor’s face when all three of them went in for the DNA test together, and would never forget the strain in his voice as he later said, ‘ _Well I have some good news and some bad news_ ’.

Neville blinked as Sami gripped his shoulders tightly.

“We’ll always be here for you, yes?” Sami repeated. Kevin looked at the back of his soulmate’s head, something strange in his eyes that Neville couldn’t place.

“Yes,” Neville replied blankly. Was Sami really okay with this? Why wasn’t Kevin getting mad and throwing chairs and lamps at walls? Or.. Or maybe they were both hoping Neville would eventually break off on his own so they could finally grow together, undisturbed.

Later that night Neville watched on, horrified, as Sami fell to his knees and broke down in the center of the ring during his match, costing himself and Kevin the PWG Tag Team Championships to the Young Bucks.

 

* * *

 

**“So tonight, for the first time ever we are going to have… a WWE World Heavyweight Open Challenge. And that’s gonna start about….. _RIGHT NOW._ ”**

Silence suddenly permeated the usually rambunctious locker room, all eyes to the small Raw feed on the wall. Did Seth Rollins really just issue an open challenge for his title? Neville’s heart stopped, paused midway through slipping on his shin protectors. He was nearly trampled as the entire room pushed and shoved out of the sweaty room, charging towards Gorilla. Neville suppressed a whine and hopped into a run, knuckles white from the grip on his purple cloak.

Neville had to strain his neck down the precession of wrestlers packed into the hallway as if it were a damn Black Friday sale. _Jesus_. For someone who was the smallest and quickest of the roster, he was literally at the back of the line.

 _Not that a pipsqueak like me would have a chance_ , he thought bitterly. A chance. One chance to fight Rollins was all he needed.

“What’s going on?”

Neville glanced behind him, giving Dolph a half-smile. “Rollins’ just issued an open challenge.”

Dolph’s eyes lit up. “Damn, I’d like me a piece of that action,” he said, rolling his wrists before frowning at the dozens of Superstars in front of them all hollering their self-nominations at Steph McMahon at Gorilla.

 **“Of course this is legitimate, what are you talking about.”** Seth’s voice boomed over the speakers and Steph yelled for everyone to quieten down. **“I got one hundred percent verification from the Authority that I could do this.. with two _caveats_. The first being, my opponent has to be under six feet tall.”**

Half of the hallway groaned. Someone yelled out, “Six foot under or exact.”

“Under,” Steph confirmed.

“Ah, fuck,” Dolph groaned, and rest his elbow on Neville’s shoulder to lean on him in dramatic nonchalance. He then did a double take to meet Neville’s gaze in realisation.

**“And the second, that they have to be under two hundred pounds.”**

**“So, basically you’re talking about a match against El Torito?”**

The hallway was in a complete uproar again about how ridiculous and unfair the stipulations were, a few bold wrestlers even accusing Steph of favouritism. Neville couldn’t breathe, ears pounding so loud he could barely hear the commotion over it. Hands clammy, he tried to move, but all his muscles seized up, throat collapsing.

The COO flipped her ponytail back and grinned smugly, “So? El Torito? If you would step for--”

“Neville qualifies!”

Neville’s arm was somehow in the air, Dolph’s gripping his hand, trembling. As El Torito’s theme song played in the arena which felt like a lightyear away, the entire hallway turned their gaze silently, many many eyes finding their second smallest peer.Steph’s grin vanished, replaced by a scowl.

Dolph stared at them all incredulously and rattled Neville’s arm as an exclamation point. “I SAID NEVILLE QUALIFIES.”

 

* * *

 

_Not good enough. Never good enough._

Neville stumbled backstage, feeling more like he wanted to flee the WWE forever him his defeat, when he was instead welcomed by a standing ovation from almost the entire roster.

 _Why_?

He’d lost.

The match with Seth was already a broken, blurry memory. Neville had be so hyperfocused, so meticulous, coming at Seth with an unbroken barrage of attacks, never allowing him to breathe or think. That was the only way he had a real shot of winning. It didn’t work, though. He already couldn’t remember which moves he’d used, or in what order because he didn’t focus on anything else but the finish line.

And that focus had been his downfall. Neville hit the Red Arrow more perfectly than he ever had in his life, but he pulled into the cover at the wrong angle, caring more about the win than his ring awareness. Seth got his foot on the ropes. The only consolation following the match was how spooked Seth’s stupid face was, realising he wasn’t safe from someone he’d so greatly underestimated.

“Wha?” Neville blurted out incoherent thank yous as he weakly made his way to the locker room, congratulatory hugs and pats from all sides. But, he lost? Titus O’Neil, Natalya, Roman Reigns, New Day, Paige, Dean Ambrose, even many of the backstage crew in celebration like he’d won. Weren’t they paying attention? Did it look different on the television feed? He was pretty certain he’d lost, head throbbing from that vicious Pedigree.

“That was some real slick work, kid. I’m proud of you,” Cena said at the locker room entrance, splint over his nose from where Rollins had kicked it in two weeks before. He gave Neville a choppy handshake before bringing him in for a hug. “You’re a real asset to this roster and I mean it when I say that.”

“But I lost,” Neville said feebly.

“Did you?” Cena questioned, nodding back to the roster and started a Neville chant which actually took off.

Neville blinked rapidly, holding dampness behind his eyes back with the whatever energy he had left, but as Cena brought him in for an affirmative sidehug, the tears choked out of him in thick streams.

He’d proven himself.

Neville _belonged_.

 

* * *

 

When Neville saw Seth sulking outside in the arena carpark after Raw, cradling the Championship, still in his ringgear, he knew he should just keep walking. Unfortunately for Seth, Neville wasn’t the righteous lad people seemed to take him for. On the occasion, he found a great joy in watching his enemies squirm under his foot.

"I hope I taught you a lesson.” Neville smirked sadistically, voice as sharp as a blade. Seth looked up, red and puffy around the eyes as if he’d been sobbing for hours. The depravity in his Neville’s face vanished, chest twisting guiltily.

"You don't understand what this means to me," Seth spat defensively, hugging the metal and leather against his chest. "No-one thinks eighteens can do anything. No-one thinks _I_ can do anything. They call me weak and chicken shit even after I've beaten every fucking fucker who's tried to take the title from me."

Neville pressed his lips together. “I used to respect you, you know. Before I discovered you were such a cocky prick.”

Seth looked away, grimacing, “It’s your own fault for being such an easy target, tiny man.”

“No. It’s your fault for being such a wanker.”

“I’ve got a lot of shit to contend with in my life, alright!”

Annoyance quickly replaced mercy. The Champion though _he_ had it tough?! _Yeah right_. “Like what?!” Neville exasperated.

“Me and Randy, we’re..” Seth stared into the middle distance of the carpark. “I’ve known him for three years now, we’re not--”

“Just because you ain’t found your soulmate yet, doesn’t give you the right to bully me. You’re so fuckin’ narcissistic. There are more old eighteens in the world than you, Rollins.”

“Oh yeah? Well try being in love with two men for _years_ and then they become soulbound. _Without you_. Don’t you think that would fuck someone up a whole lot?!”

Neville’s vision flashed. _Who the fuck.._? How did Seth know about Kevin and Sami?! “Yeah, but I don’t go around embarrassin’ people; makin’ people bleed for no reason!” Neville growled, blood boiling.

Seth stood up, hugging the title in one arm, jabbing a finger at Neville’s chest with the other. “I’m talking about me, you big dumb idiot!”

“What?! Then how do you know about my--”

A breeze cut through the silence, blowing hair over both men’s faces as they stared at each other, chests heaving with anger. Their expressions eased. Seth pulled his accusatory finger away, and balled it into a hopeless fist.

“You poly?” Seth asked, gaze almost hopeful.

“Yeah,” Neville said, thinking back to his recent expedition to PWG. “--or, was, I dunno.”

Seth blinked a few times, all the ire seeming to compress out of him and he slumped back down, combing fingers through his hair. “Before you were around, I was in a group with Dean and Roman,” Seth explained, “We called ourselves The Shield. We fucking dominated. We honestly loved each other. All three of us. Equally. It was so fucking good. It was, like, actually healthy and super supportive. When they realised they were growing up, we were all ecstatic. We didn’t do the test or anything, because we were all so certain. Then one day it was kinda plainly obvious I wasn’t really aging at all and it’s like ‘ _oh_ ’.

“They said we could still be together and shit but I didn’t want no pity party. It was actually so fucked up. I was just so--” A furious exhale exploded out of him. “--so angry. I was so fuckin’ pissed off that I put a chair in both their backs. Now they’re all in love n’ shit and, oh, _I’m_ the traitor. But Stephanie McMahon sees the potential in me. She knew that I was going to be a great Champion. And I am. I fucking showed all of them. I don’t need them. I’ve got...”

Seth’s voice died suddenly and he went defeatedly limp.

Neville stood there, at a complete loss of what to say. Eventually he put a hand on his own hip, but felt less and less defiant with each passing second. Kevin’s unyielding wrath would be a nice trait to have right about now. Neville cleared his throat softly, hoping Seth would just keep rambling on to fill the--

“Sorry,” Seth muttered and Neville blinked in shock. “For, um, all the shit I did to you.” It was awkward and forced but actually bloody genuine. Far more than Neville had ever expected from the Champion. A smile tugged at his lip by accident. Maybe there was hope for Steph’s megalomaniac foster son after all.

“S’alright, Seth,” Neville gave in, giving him a firm pat on the shoulder and Seth glanced up in a rare moment of awe. “You better watch that title, though. Next time, I’ll make sure I hit you with the Red Arrow in the _center_ of the ring.”

The admiration was gone. Seth sneered. “That a threat?”

Neville shook his head with a hopeless smile. “A challenge, mate.”

Seth’s expression settled, as if he’d suddenly remembered what it was like to have a rival and not a roster of enemies. He shot back a determined grin and Neville saw a handsome side of Seth that even someone like Randy could fall for.

“Tough break, kiddo. There ain’t nobody on God’s green earth taking the Championship from me.”

“We’ll see about that,” Neville wondered proudly, and held his head high as he walked in a direction that wasn’t where Seth was (he actually forgot what he had been in the middle of doing). He stared forward, calm and determined, but inside he was a tingling, euphoric mess, victorious in conquering the bully which had made his life such a hell in his early days in WWE.

“Neville!” Seth called out.

Neville turned around with wide eyes.

“Thanks.”

“For what, mate?” Neville asked, completely taken aback.

Seth’s stood proudly, mouth twisted into a wry smile. “For the killer match.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Neville cracked Seth?!! Could this be the start of a beautiful friendship?
> 
> I'm so proud of our boy. Things are certainly looking up!


	5. Endless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neville, Dolph, Randy and Seth ride together. What could possibly go wrong?

**Sami, how was the ROH show?**

**Kev lost the world title**

**What?! To who?**

**Lethal**

**What.. I don’t even know what to say, I can’t even believe..  
** **Are you alright? You and Kev?**

**Yeah, we’re good don’t worry about us.**

**Sami, don’t lie to me.**

**I’m not lying.**  
**we’re Good  
** **Promise.**

 

* * *

 

Neville wasn't the most sentimental of fellows, but at the realisation that he had been working at WWE for 6 months, he couldn't help but walk around backstage with a big daft grin on his face. Respect from his peers, mild success as a singles competitor, a small group of good friends. Life was great. It had been a leap of faith, breaking off on his own, signing with the WWE, but now he couldn’t believe he hadn’t done it sooner.

Also, being a Superstar became considerably easier once Neville didn’t have to worry about the Champion attacking him from behind or badmouthing him at every turn. He even swapped a passing smile at Seth occasionally backstage, but they never spoke. Neville was more than okay with that.

His list of allies was growing too. Zack Ryder was a loud but lovely guy who was friends with Dolph before he met and was to bound to Australian wrestler, Emma. The Lucha Dragons had arguably become his closest mates on the roster, and he often joined them for six-man tag matches. Then there was Sasha Banks who had joined WWE shortly after Neville. She was still quite young, and had left her soulmate of a year behind in a different wrestling promotion; a subject they could mutually bond over. Becky Lynch, another eighteen, joined the roster around the same time and was a girl Neville actually knew from way back when he was cutting his teeth in the UK.

“Well hey there Miss. Red,” Dolph had intoned as soon as he was aware that Becky and Neville knew each other. He elbowed Neville, hissing, “ _Introduce me_.”

Neville sighed. “Becky, this is Dolph Ziggler. Dolph, Be--”

“That is _actually_ the worst introduction I’ve ever heard. Here, Neville, let me show you how it’s done.” He cracked his knuckles and leant seductively on a roadcase, giving Becky bedroom eyes. “Dolph Ziggler, two time World Heavyweight Champion, pro bono stand-up comic and your tag team partner for tonight, baby.”

Becky was wide eyed as Dolph shook her hand and looked at a piece of paper he slipped her. “That _is_ funny,” she smirked sarcastically, placing the number into the elastic of his tights. “Even if I did _Zig Zag_ that way, no thanks.”

Neville couldn’t help the snort as he saw Dolph’s pathetic expression before doubling over to hold his stomach from the howls of laughter that poured out of him.

Recalling the memory, Neville let out a small snicker, pushing into the open air of the loading dock behind the arena. He walked between the rows of vans and roadie trucks, hoping to catch a word with the production assistant about making some tweaks to his entrance, when--

“ _I want you, I need you. I want you to be mine tonight. You need me, you tease me. Use you up, throw you away._ ”

Neville paused, brow folding. Echoing down into the parking lot was someone singing, somewhere.

“ _You're fire, taking me higher. Don't burn me, don't let me down._ ”

Neville tilt his gaze upwards, shielding his eyes from the noon sun and his mouth fell open. Dolph was on top of someone's trailer (with John Cena’s massive smiling torso printed on the side, no less). “Ziggy? The hell are you doin' up there, mate?”

“ _You need me now, I'll teach you how,_ ” Dolph saw Neville and grinned suddenly. Pointing at him, he spread his legs and gyrated gently. Neville crossed his arms and raised a condescending eyebrow. “ _Come on and go all the way_.” Dolph dismounted off the top of the trailer, surprisingly graceful, sticking a soft landing into a roll and popped to his feet, sauntering towards Neville. “ _Get a piece of your action~_ ”

“Dolph,” Neville said, somewhere between flattered and disgusted.

“ _Ah uh,_ ” Dolph smirked, pulling out his white earbuds and thrusting with the lyrics.

“What on earth was that?”

“It’s Mötley Crüe, babe!” Dolph whined and Neville snickered. The both of them whipped their heads to the trailer when the side window snapped open, dark smoke pouring out. The Undertaker stuck his head out and leered at both of them. Neville’s heart drove up all the way into his throat.

“Get.. a.. _room_ ,” The Undertaker growled, long and slow.

Neville nearly choked as Dolph rolled his eyes and stuck his middle finger up in response before it was smacked away. “Y-Yes we will, Mr. Undertaker, sir. Thank you.”

The Undertaker groaned, low and unimpressed, before slowly vanishing into the smoke and, window closing. Neville let out a relieved breath and punched Dolph hard on the arm.

“OW?!”

“You tryin' ta get us killed, Dolph?”

“Oh, he’s harmless,” Dolph waved a hand dismissively, “Besides, I don’t know how _he_ gets away with calling himself immortal. I’m the one who’s been this wrinkle-free for a huuu-- _fifty-five_ years.”

“What’s ‘ _ahuuuh-fifty-five_ ’?” Neville mocked, making a face. Dolph tugged at his slack pockets, drawing them together and stole a sweet, hungry kiss. Neville moaned absent-mindedly and relaxed into him.

“You were askin'?” Dolph mewled as he pulled away.

Neville blinked, shivering. “I-I forgot.”

Demon Kane appeared behind them, holding two takeaway coffees.The two men jumped apart, frozen on the spot. He squinted down dangerously. “Scram.”

Dolph and Neville split, bolting through the car park, laughs bouncing off the production vans as they ran.

“Eighteens,” Demon Kane grumbled.

 

* * *

 

“What’s 'is name?” Neville asked, eyeing the newest addition to the roster from his locker. Blond and very pretty, he was dramatically flustered as much of the locker room was trying to get autographs and selfies with him. He looked about in his aesthetic mid-twenties but he could’ve passed as an eighteen with the amount of moisturiser and coconut oil he must have lathered on himself.

Dolph’s upper lip pulled jealously, arms crossed deep over his chest. “Tyler Breeze,” he spat, “Xavier’s boy. Met him at his place after Rocky’s party. It wasn’t even worth going anyway, Big E got food poisoning from that Greek place and I had to be his nurse all night. And not the sexy kind. The very _dry_ kind. In the pants.”

Neville glanced to him, unimpressed.

“I mean, I would’ve held the bucket for him regardless, obviously.”

“Sure,” Neville nodded sarcastically and turned his attention back to Tyler as the New Day dispersed the crowd, showering him with unicorn-themed merchandise. “So, that’s how he got the job.”

“Hey,” Dolph huffed, gesturing to himself. “Beautiful people can be wrestlers too.”

“I mean, he’s _very_ pretty, Dolph.”

“What?! You don’t think I’m pretty?”

“I do, but your nose is slightly crooked. Tyler Breeze has a perfect.. _everything_.”

Dolph frowned and held a hand over his nose dejectedly. Randy pushed into the locker room, completely uninterested with the hullabaloo happening around the new recruit and threw his bag into the space beside Neville.

“Yo, you two wanna ride with us to Pittsburgh?” Randy asked, leaning on the locker and rubbed his eye.

Neville heart beat furiously. This was the first time Randy had ever invited him anywhere. It was probably because he just happened to be standing next to Dolph at the time but it didn’t take away from the feeling of validation that tingled through his veins. “Absolutely!” he agreed, without consulting Dolph, “Let’s do it!”

“Cool, I’ll get Seth to book our hotel rooms.”

_Oh._

“You sure you can trust him to do that?” asked Neville flatly.

“He has his uses,” Randy shrugged, “And he’ll do whatever I tell him, so..”

“He’s such an obedient little bitch,” Dolph smirked, hand still over his nose.

Randy stared at the Showoff blankly and didn’t offer a response.

 

* * *

 

The trip to Pittsburgh was surprisingly fun, even with Seth’s whining. The decision was made to not stop on the road for dinner as it was a relatively short trip. Neville napped against the window for about half an hour, exhausted from a day of fan signings and work, until Seth smacked him in the face from across the back seat.

“Oi, you right there?” Neville rubbed his cheek angrily.

“Randy, Dolph keeps poking me with the umbrella,” Seth whined.

“Stop it, Dolph,” Randy said but his tone was unconvincing and Neville could see his eyes smirking in the rear view mirror.

“You okay, kid?” Dolph turned around, resting his cheek on his hands gripping the chair.

“Yeah,” Seth grumbled.

“Wasn’t talking to you,” Dolph said, then jokingly reached over to place a hand on Neville’s thigh and stared deeply into his eyes, right in front of Seth. “Neville, are you okay?” he asked, with as tender a coo he could manage.

Neville’s heart fluttered at the touch and smiled back. “’m fine, thanks.”

Seth scoffed and rolled his eyes, “You two are legitimately the worst.” A moment later, he squealed suddenly, making Neville jump in his seat, which turned out to be Dolph poking him in the side with the umbrella again through the small space between the seat and door. “STOP, STOP, STOP IT! DOLPH, FUCK OFF. _RANDY?!!!_ ”

“Leave him alone,” Randy yawned.

Neville laughed heartily at the antics, hugging himself as he suddenly felt warm and tingly. There weren’t a lot of wrestlers in WWE frozen at eighteen but he was really feeling like they had a unique little gang forming, as dysfunctional as it was.

That thought was immediately preceded by feeling guilty about Sami and Kevin. Neville dug into his pocket for his phone to maybe send them a how-you-going text but as Dolph began to play Bon Jovi’s You Give Love a Bad Name through the car stereo, he abandoned the idea to join in the sing-a-long (even Randy belting a couple of choruses).

Having far too much fun with his driving mates, Neville didn’t think about his ex-boyfriends for the remainder of the trip.

 

* * *

 

“I’m real sorry boys, but we have no rooms available, unfortunately,” the hotel concierge said at the front desk, with a confused, regretful expression which Neville knew was never a good sign.

“We should have a booking,” Randy waved his hand at her with irritation.

“I’m sorry. Everyone has already checked into their rooms, sir.”

All eyes were on Seth, whose gaze was wide before he slunk into his shoulders, features written with guilt. Randy sighed through his nose angrily.

“Well, what are we going to do?” Dolph said, glancing to Neville, who shrugged.

The receptionist pointed out the sliding doors and across the road. A dilapidated motel could be seen, a neon vacancy sign alight at the top of the driveway, but the Y was blown, so it just said ‘ _VACANC_ ’.

“Oh shit,” Seth said blankly.

“Neville run over and see how many rooms they have left,” Randy said.

“Yeah, you’re the fastest,” Dolph said.

“Hey?” Seth protested, “I’m the fastest, look at Neville’s little baby legs compared to my big lo-- _URK_ ”

Randy pincered Seth’s ear, staring down at him with a threatening deadpan. “ _You’re_ untrustworthy.”

 

* * *

 

The motel had two double rooms left, opposed to the four Seth was supposed to have ordered at the hotel. Despite this, Seth was excited that him and Randy were going to be sharing a room (Randy not so much).

The other two men tiredly lugged their suitcases into theirs and Neville’s heart raced as he saw there was no spare couch in the cramped, decrepit room. Unbelievably, they still managed to squeeze a kitchenette into the back corner, beside the bathroom door where light blue paint was peeling from the rendered walls. Dolph ran forward and leapt onto the curtain-patterned covers of the bed, giggling as he bounced up, springs wheezing underneath him.

Neville sucked in a breath, eyes wide. They were going to have to share a bed together.

“Wow, this bed is small, huh?” Dolph said, springing up and down as he bucked his hips. “And squeaky. Like my ex-girlfriend. Until she ran off with my Dad.”

Neville raised a perturbed eyebrow, “Fuckin’ liar.”

“I’m dead serious, Nev.”

“Oh my god, I’m sorry.”

“Kidding,” Dolph laughed, sliding to the end of the bed and hooked the back of Neville’s knee with his foot. Neville fell forward, hands pressing into the sheets on either side of Dolph’s hips. “You’re right, I am a liar. As in ‘ _lier_ ’. Because I’m great in bed,” Dolph breathed, getting even closer.

Neville balled the sheets in his fist, heart beating fast, nerves fired up. Dolph’s hand crept around the small of his back, under his shirt, eyebrow quirking invitingly. Neville shivered his icy touch, cold from the night air, and leaned forward to close the distance..

A harsh knock thumped on the door repeatedly, causing them both to pause and stare at it.

“ _Hey you two, I’m making fuckboy--_ ”

“ _Hey?!_ ”

“ _\--_ shut up _\-- get McDonalds drive through, so come out and tell him what you want._ And don’t fuck it up this time.”

“ _I won’t, Randy. God_.”

Dolph slid out from under Neville and backward somersaulted off the bed, hopping to open the door. Neville stared at the mesmerising patterns of the bed, blinking hard as his ears thundered, chest aching.

“Neville!”

“Huh?” he turned around, anxiously smoothing back his hair.

“What do you want?” Dolph smiled empathetically, waving him over.

Neville joined them, listing off his order off his fingers. "Two McChicken burgers and one Double Quarter Pounder with an extra patty. No chips, no soda, thanks. Actually, I’ll have a Sprite, why not. Oh, and a large McFlurry with extra chocolate sauce.” He paused, realising all three others were staring at him blankly. “What?"

"Nothing, it's just a lot,” said Seth.

"You can afford it," Randy said.

“Oh come on! I literally just upgraded my gaming rig at home,” Seth protested.

“Well, it should be fine if you take into account all the money you're saving from sleeping in a motel tonight,” Randy reminded, jangling the rental keyring.

Seth grumbled, swiped the car keys and stalked away.

 

* * *

 

"Triple Eights!" Dolph grinned, slapping his cards in the middle of the circle, rocking happily on his ass where he sat cross-legged on the floor beside the television in Randy and Seth's motel room.

"Aw fuck." Seth threw his hand into the discard pile and went back to eating his apple pie bitterly.

Neville paused, popping the last bite of his burger into his mouth, and leant over to Dolph. "That’s only three of a kind?"

"Better," Dolph waggled his eyebrows, "This is Triple Eights, it's the second highest play of--" he paused for effect, "-- _The Game_ "

"Well I suppose these are garbage then," Neville threw down the full house of jacks he'd collected throughout their game of WWE Poker and hid a trembling hand under his armpit. He _hated_ losing.

"These rules make no sense," Seth grumbled.

"Shawn Michaels invented it," Dolph shrugged smugly, reaching in for the $200 prize pool. “He taught me well.”

"Ah, ah, ah," Randy wagged his finger.

Dolph paused, on all fours, staring up to Randy, bewildered, Neville watched on with great interest. His McFlurry was a little melted but still tasted great. Except Seth forgot the extra chocolate sauce...

"Wait, what beats a Triple Eights?" Neville asked, glancing between the competitors.

Randy placed three cards in the center: six, ace, nine. "Booyakah," Randy raised a hand in deadpan celebration.

"Fucking bullshit!" Dolph bellowed, "That's bullshit! You must’ve cheated; you always win, Randall."

"Legend killer strikes again," Randy grinned to himself, scooping up the jackpot.

"You don't even know Shawn Michaels," Seth said grumpily, staring daggers at Dolph.

“I’ve met him,” Dolph said defensively.

“Not well enough for him to teach you it.”

Dolph opened his mouth and then closed it, earning a silent but wondering look from Randy. Neville noticed the odd exchange and was suddenly overcome with curiosity. Come to think of it, those two had swapped anxious glances on more than one occasion when it came to their histories.

"I knew Dolph back then," Randy said, "Used to bring him backstage with me. Then, he decided to become a wrestler too."

Dolph looked relieved. "Yeah, exactly."

Neville's eyes narrowed, unconvinced. He trusted Dolph enough but he didn't believe a word of that. "Where did you two lads meet?" he asked, feigning innocence and glanced between them.

"Yeah, where?" Seth chimed in, decidedly interested in the information.

Dolph’s eyes widened a little, staring at Randy as he were supposed to fill in the blank for him. “ _Brr_ \- Brooklyn?” he answered weakly.

“I thought we agreed on Berkeley,” Randy said cooly.

“Randy?!”

“I knew yous two were hidin' somethin',” Neville said, proud that he’d cracked their lies.

“Maybe not blow our cover?” Dolph said, voice strained and offended.

“Oh, you might as well tell him, considering how close you are,” Randy sighed, gesturing to Neville.

Dolph caught Neville’s perplexed gaze and groaned guiltily. His eyes were a tempest of emotions, weighing up whether he should be honest or not. Eventually he caved, "Kid, I haven't been completely honest with you.”

Neville’s stomach twisted, walls of the small motel room closing in on him. “About what?”

"I'm, not.. as young as you think. I'm eighteen and.. one hundred and seventeen, Nev." Dolph brought his knees to his chin and ducked his head, unable to look at Neville, who felt like the earth’s polarity shifted right under their asses.

"YOU’RE WHAT?!"

Seth snickered happily at the situation. "Oh no, no."

 _Eighteen and a hundred and seventeen_. So, it was true. People actually _could_ exist for that long. Neville smacked a hand to his temple, feeling dizzy despite sitting down. “This, this is..” He rocked forward, feeling as if he might throw up before groaning, “I’m doomed.”

A warmth reached out to his shoulder and he looked up sharply to meet a compassionate smile from Dolph. A smile that said ‘ _don’t worry, we’ll get through this together, kid_ ’.

"So that makes Randy," Neville said in realisation, leaning into a sidehug from Dolph and turning to the eldest member of the group. "Eighteen and one hundred and _twenty_ -seven?!”

“What?” Seth spluttered and Randy suddenly choked on a handful of fries. “Randy’s, like, a thousand years old!”

Dolph’s brow knit together, confused as Randy slammed on his chest with a fist, clearing his throat with a booming cough. “Seth, you fucking moron,” he growled, punching him in the leg.

Seth yelped unhappily, nursing his thigh, then covered his mouth in realisation that he’d fucked up.

“You’re _what_?” Dolph stole his hands back and Neville felt immediately anxious.

“Now hold up,” Randy said, holding up his palms defensively.

“Dolph, I was lying,” Seth interrupted, voice desperate, " I was just--"

“Shut the fuck up,” Dolph spat back and the atmosphere in the room suddenly felt very, very wrong. He leveraged his weight on the television cabinet, rising to his feet. Neville reached out to him but hesitated, then cradled his own hand, breath coming in short. The way Dolph was so trembling with rage, so incensed, made Neville's neck felt cold, hair on end.

“What year were you born?” Dolph asked Randy, all trace of his characteristic humour gone.

“Dolph..”

“ _What. Year,_ ” Dolph hissed, tone loaded with threat.

Randy sighed, running a hand defeatedly over his head. “1210.”

If Neville weren’t already on the floor, he would’ve collapsed to his knees. “You’ve been alive for eight hundred and five years?!” he breathed, all the life punched out of him. There was no way. That was impossible, right? As in, scientifically impossible!

Dolph was at his feet, his features a dozen colours of hurt and betrayed. His chest heaved, hands balling in and out of fists as they shook violently by his sides. He stared into the middle of the card pile intensely, his emotions so clear. Disappointment, resentment, distrust. Shades of Sami following his loss at PWG could be seen in Dolph's features and that made Neville's blood run cold.

“You told him?” Dolph pointed accusingly to Seth, “You told _him_ , before me?!”

Pain flashed across Randy’s expression and he uncrossed his legs to stand, but Dolph picked up a lamp that was beside the television and ripped the cord from the wall threateningly. Randy rose up more cautiously. “Don’t be dramatic.”

“You don’t think I’ll do it?!” Dolph shrieked and Neville heart pounded, backing away from the unpredictable situation. “Eight hundred, Randy. Are you fucking serious?!”

“Calm down.”

“FUCK YOU,” Dolph roared and hurled the lamp over his head, Randy ducked, and it cracked against the far wall, shade bending out of shape as it landed near the bathroom door. Neville was glued to the spot, staring at Dolph with wide eyes in disbelief.

“Jesus Christ!” Seth yelled, hands over his head.

Randy exhaled angrily, muscles tensing. “George--”

“Motherfucker. Don’t you fucking _dare_ call me that.” Dolph raised a fist. He then glanced to it, top lip pulling into a snarl. Slowly, he grunted in consideration before thinking the better of it and promptly removed himself from the room, door slamming so loud it made them all wince. A shocked silence followed, Neville and Seth catching the panic in each other’s eyes.

“Fuck,” Randy groaned regretfully, rubbing two hands firmly over his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes it's just better to be honest upfront, kids.


	6. Continuous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seth and Neville have a chat. Neville goes looking for Dolph. Steph McMahon has a surprise opponent for Neville during a PPV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, this fic is rated explicit now. If you don't like that kinda stuff in your fic, then close this tab immediately and go scrub the sin off yourself in the shower- like I should be doing.

A sharp basilisk stare froze Seth in his place as he reached out to comfort Randy. He whined, not knowing what to do with himself. “Randy?”

“You’re sleeping outside tonight.”

“ _Randy_?!”

“No, Rollins. That was really fucking messed up. I don’t want to deal with you right now. I don’t want to deal with _either_ of you right now.”

Neville pushed himself up by the end of the bed, catching Seth’s gaze but giving no sympathy back. The whole trip, the whole night, had been so good. Then, Seth had to open his big stupid mouth and now the harmony of the group in jeopardy.

The mission had been a success. Neville knew Randy’s real age now. Dolph’s too. That’s why wanted to get close to them in the first place, right?

He would give the knowledge up in a heartbeat if it meant repairing Dolph and Randy’s friendship.

“Shouldn’t you go talk to him?” Neville said to Randy, surprised by the sternness in his own voice.

“No.”

“Babe,” Seth begun to say.

“This is bigger than you,” Randy hissed, pointing a finger. “I told you that shit in confidence. You fucked up.” Usually nonchalant to a fault, Randy was struggling with conflicting emotions, hands to his head, before they went into the air. Finally he let out an exasperated groan and fumbled for his packet of smokes. After patting down his pockets, he turned to grumble at Seth. “Got a lighter?”

Seth rummaged in his jacket and pulled one out, tossing it to Randy, who already had a cigarette between his lips and slant his neck to light it.

“Now, both of you, fuck off.”

Neville and Seth wandered down to the pool. The entire area, like most of the motel, was weathered as hell. Metal sunbeds lined poolside, all coming apart, not one with all fabric slats in tact. There was a tube hanging on the chicken wire fencing which surprisingly looked brand new but it was probably just to meet safety compliances. Chlorine steam poured off the green pool water, casting bright reflections onto Seth’s troubled face in patterns.

“This blows,” he muttered.

“Why did ya say it?” Neville asked, infuriated. How Seth hadn’t been RKO’ed into hell, was beyond him. He got off way too easy. Randy must really have a soft spot for the shithead Champion.

“I dunno,” Seth shrugged, “I liked that I knew and no-one else knew. I was special. But no-one knew I knew, so..”

Neville’s brain was slow to catch up on how ridiculous that was. Between incredulous and perplexed, he stared slack-jawed. “Well not anymore.”

Seth made a dismissive sound and crouched down to draw figure eights in the pool. Neville refused to touch the water (seriously, gross) but watched the mesmerising light reflections all the same. They didn’t say anything for a while, until Seth piped up with a mildly confident: “Randy will forgive me.”

“Will he?” Neville questioned immediately, “You just outed his biggest secret; a secret he kept from someone who I can only assume he’s known for a hundred bloody years. And you spill because you want people to know how much of a special snowflake you are? Come on, Rollins.”

Seth was already to his feet, giving Neville a warning shove. “Don’t tell me to come on! I’m the WWE Champion.”

Neville rolled his eyes. “And what does _that_ have to do with anythin’?”

“Be--” Seth’s eyes jerked around, “Because I’m the Champ!”

“Do you ever take _any_ responsibility for your actions?”

Seth was stunned by Neville’s uncharacteristic aggression. “What?!”

“You walk around here like you bloody own the place. Well, newsflash for ya, ya don’t. Champions come and go. One day you’re gonna lose that thing and you’re not gonna have the luxury of bein’ a spoiled brat no more; people waitin’ on ya hand n’ foot.”

“What the hell are you talking about?!”

“I’m sayin’, if you really care about Randy, then you should probably start by admittin’ you fucked up and see where it takes ya.”

Seth was completely silent, expression stripped bare. If Neville had somehow got through to him, he wondered what farm animal he had sacrificed in his life to allow this miracle to happen. Seth rubbed a hand over his mouth and glanced up to his motel room in contemplation. Randy’s silhouette appeared in the window, examining the broken lamp that Dolph had thrown in his hands. Then, he walked out of sight.

“And what are you going to do?” Seth looked back to Neville curiously.

“What ya mean?”

“Well,” Seth scratched behind his ear. “Aren’t you gonna talk with Dolph, or whatever?”

“I doubt he wants to talk to anyone right now.”

“Are you _kidding_ me?! He, like, loves you. He calls you babe n’ shit.”

 _Oh, please_. Neville met Seth’s gaze indifferently. “He calls _everyone_ babe, Rollins.”

“He doesn’t call me babe,” he grumbled.

Neville sighed hopelessly through chuckle, stretching to re-tie his bun. “I suppose I don’t really have a choice seein’ as I’m supposed to be sleepin’ there, and those sunbeds don’t look too comfortable.” Snapping the elastic into place, he held out a hand out to shake, “I deal with Dolph; you deal with Randy, aye?”

Seth stared it. After a moment, he brought his own down to slap a low five. Neville tore his hand back incredulously, shaking the sting out of it.

“You right?!”

“Deal with Randy?” Seth cackled with determination. “You leave it to me, pipsqueak!”

Neville watched Seth over his shoulder, strutting confidently back to the motel like he was on a damn WWE ramp. He huffed through his nose and turned his gaze back up to the window of the room beside Randy’s, lights shut off like no one was occupying it. If Dolph had done a runner then Neville was going to be in for a sleepless night. He really hoped that wouldn’t be the case.

 

* * *

 

Neville tried the door handle to his motel room, frowning when it was locked. He jimmied it a couple of times to no avail. Patting down his pockets revealed nothing but his wallet and phone. No keys. Which meant Dolph had them.

He tried knocking. “Dolph?” Harder this time. “Dolph!!”

Nothing.

Neville scratched his lip in thought, then went to see if the window was open. It wasn’t but it rattled a little under his push. A little power behind it and the weak lock came apart, window sliding wide open. Well, that was disconcerting.

Inside was completely dark aside from the soft moonlight through the sheer curtain. Neville hoisted himself quietly over the windowsill and shut it behind him. He’d ring the front desk about it later. At first it didn’t seem like Dolph was present, but a muffled blasting of what sounded like a Guns N Roses song from behind the bed was enough to deduct he thankfully hadn’t made a run for it.

Dolph laid on the ground, face buried in his arms, plugged into his lambasting music. Neville hesitated, then crouched down to pull out one of the earbuds. The disturbance frightened Dolph, and he sharply rolled, applying a front facelock before adjusting to a sleeper hold.

“Dolph, it’s me,” Neville gasped, hands scraping at the arms around his neck, already feeling the life drain out of him.

“Kid,” Dolph blinked, loosening his grip.

“You’re going to deafen yourself,” Neville rasped, heart pounding. He pressed his palms flat into the ground to catch his breath. When his health regained, he became aware that Dolph hadn’t let go yet, hugging him from behind. Neville shifted experimentally but Dolph held fast, pressing his forehead against the nape of his neck.

Had Neville ever seen the Showoff this afflicted? Had anyone?

“Are you okay?” Neville asked, voice soft through the nerves.

“Yeah,” Dolph mumbled back.

“So, you’re clingin’ to me like a koala bear just ‘cause, then?”

“Yeah. Just ‘cause.”

“Dolph..”

The hug tightened and Neville wasn’t sure what to do. He was garbage in situations like his. He thought back to their conversation when their car broke down in the desert. How Dolph knew exactly the right things to say when he was in anguish. Now, when Neville had a chance to help, his vocabulary came up dry. He must have come across so heartless to Dolph.

“I met Randy in the thirties,” Dolph said, weak and unsure, the story unpracticed. Neville had to strain to hear him over the thump in his ears. “I remember asking his age; he just said he was ten years older than me, and I thought to myself, ‘ _oh, that’s easy to remember_ ’. I feel so fucking stupid now.”

“You trusted him,” Neville defended on his behalf.

“I should’ve been more suspicious,” Dolph protested, “If.. we were friends, I would say he was my oldest friend and that I was really hurt by this.” With a small exhale, Dolph pulled his hands away, wringing them together. “But he’s not, so I suppose it’s alright that he lied to me for eighty years.”

Neville swivelled on his knees enough to meet Dolph’s downcast eyes, his own features wanting to twist incredulously. _Really? That’s it?_

“But you _are_ friends,” Neville pushed.

Dolph stared. “He tell you that?”

“Well.. no, but--”

Dolph sighed through his nose and backed off, pushing up to his feet. “Kid, look.. no offence, but you haven’t been around long enough to get it. Randy’s been in and out of my life more times than I can count. We’re not.. We’re not friends. He’s just a guy I’ve known for a long, _long_ ass time.”

Neville was already to his feet, grabbing the crook of Dolph’s elbow to stop him from walking towards the doorway. Dolph looked back to him, considering Neville with wonder, whose grip twitched, second-guessing his boldness.

“You’re my friend,” Neville said, shaky but no less defiant. “For as long as you want me to be.” Dolph tilted his head, emotions torn. “Forever, if it comes to that.”

Dolph’s shoulders relaxed but his chest heaved against the folds of his t-shirt. “You’ve barely known me for a year.”

“And?”

“You’re so.. impulsive.”

Neville stole his hand back, suddenly unsure. Dolph looked at the floor, chewing the gum of his lip.

“That night in the desert,” Dolph said quietly. “You remember it?”

“Of course.”

“I think about it a lot.”

Neville nodded. He did too.

Dolph craned his neck to the ceiling, and let out an unsteady exhale. Then, he closed the distance, taking Neville’s lips with a deliberate sincerity. Unlike the sympathetic kiss from the desert. Not the coy, joking smooches Dolph would occasionally surprise him with. Neville pulled him closer, deepening the kiss and rocked against Dolph’s body, desperate for touch.

There was an intensity that reminded him of the way Kevin would kiss Sami. But never him.

Not in that way.

Dolph’s roving hands slipped under the elastic of Neville’s shorts while he felt out his mouth with a brazen tongue. Dolph jerked back a little, like his free-will had lapsed for a moment there, both of them already panting from dizzy minds. Neville’s went for the Showoff’s pants, but changed his mind at the sight of Dolph’s dick arched into the material of his running shorts, and went to explore over the smooth skin of his stomach instead.

“It’s not like you haven’t seen it before,” Dolph said stirringly.

Neville stared at him.

Carefully, Dolph’s took Neville’s hand and placed it over his cock, where it shivered under the touch. Neville swallowed deeply, nervously exploring with his palm and Dolph groaned in a way which drowned him in pleasure, his own erection fevering desperately.

“This okay?” Dolph whispered.

Neville nodded, before hushing out a: “Yes.”

They fired up, frantically tugging at each other’s clothes, knocking their teeth as they pashed, trembling against each other in raptures of excitement. Dolph picked Neville up as if he were to plant him to the mat via spinebuster, but all that came up under him was the springs of the mattress before they were together, limbs tangled, unknown where one body ended and the other begun. Neville’s cock throbbed, pressing up eagerly against Dolph’s. This was happening. Again. Neville was uninhibited.

It was really, actually happening this time.

He thought about how the window was broken. How someone could just open it up and catch them. He wondered if Randy could hear the creaking mattress, or Dolph’s loud moans. He wondered what Sami would think, if he knew that sex with Dolph was better than anything Neville had ever, _ever_ felt in his life.

Most of all, he thought about how fucking gorgeous Dolph looked underneath him, thin gleam of sweat slicking over his perfectly lean body as his head tilt back into the sheets, eyelids heavy and mouth slack. So fucking beautiful.

“More,” Dolph panted, starry eyed, the words falling out of him. “More, babe, _more_.”

Neville threw one of Dolph’s legs over his shoulder and pushed in deeper, both men tandemly crying out in pleasure. “Fucken ‘ell,” he gasped out, sluggishly shocked as his abdomen bumped right up against Dolph’s body. _So.. So deep, what the fuck_.

Neville nearly doubled over as he came, body lurching as warmth from the release flooded his entire body. He almost didn’t fully enjoy it as he saw Dolph, who was staring at him like his skin had turned green.

“Wh-What?” he huffed, pushing a handful of brown curls from his eyes.

Dolph blinked. “You just look really fucking hot when you cum, you know that?”

“Shut up.” Neville slapped Dolph’s leg away, laughing through an exhale. “No,” he added, blushing.

“Wanna see what I look like?” Dolph smirked, then moaned inwardly as Neville withdrew from his ass.

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Neville didn’t have the will to grimace jokingly as he grasped Dolph’s fluttering cock, where the Showoff breathily grinned before straining in pleasure. Dolph didn’t know what to do with his himself as Neville worked to draw an orgasm out of him, first staring in awe, then shielding his eyes, then pressing deep into the bed, arching as he came, moans ripping from him.

Sex with Dolph, not just sucking each other off in the desert, was unlike anything Neville had ever expected it would be. This was a guy he assumed had been with hundreds of partners. But he made Neville feel like he was they were only men in the entire universe.

Neville just retrieved his polo shirt to mop themselves up, snapping off the condom to toss into the small waste basket by the bed. He gasped when Dolph pulled him down, kissing him so hard, like they were lovers who’d reunited after years and years of distance. Sometimes Neville felt like he had really, actually known Dolph for a lifetime.

“Unbelievable,” Dolph grinned against Neville’s lips, tugging him even closer.

“Huh?”

“I really did have no idea what you were capable of.”

Neville smiled hopelessly. “I _told_ you.”

Dolph rolled to his side, reaching for the bedside table drawer.

“What are ya doin’?”

“Just gonna catch up on my Psalms before I ask God for forgiveness,” he smirked, rummaging around for the Bible.

Neville laughed, rolling his eyes, “As if.”

“Oh, that’s weird.”

“What is?”

Dolph sat up on his elbow, revealing something yellow and round in his hand. “What the hell? There’s just a lemon in here. That’s so random,” he laughed, turning the fruit over in his hand to examine it. “Well, you know what they sa-- Nev?”

Neville’s eyes widened as every emotion drained from his body, completely and utterly stupefied.

 

* * *

 

Since the night at the motel, Dolph and Randy’s relationship tensed, and cracked worse as the weeks went on. After Seth and Neville were forced to break up a particularly bad fight where Dolph made Randy’s nose bleed (and got reprimanded by Stephanie), they agreed between each other to make sure the two men wouldn’t have to cross paths at work.

Neville was admittedly disappointed that their little group was over barely before it had a chance to begin. Most surprising was Seth would text him every blue moon, asking how Dolph was. Neville kept it ambiguous, just in case Seth was probing for information. It was nice to hear from him either way.

Dolph and Neville made a friend in Cesaro, who Neville knew in passing from the indies but never had the opportunity to become friends. The three of them shared a table at catering, rode together, even tag teamed together on the odd occasion. Cesaro was soulbound by a couple years but he still found trouble moving up the ranks in the roster, feeling like he had the odds stacked against him, just as Neville and Dolph did.

Cesaro refused to speak about his soulmate when Neville pried him with questions. Perhaps getting a little too bold, Cesaro brushed the cat-hair from his jacket and left, angrily. Dolph pulled him aside later that day and explained that his soulmate was his former tag team partner who had survived a life-threatening neck injury during a match. There wasn’t much of a chance that he would ever return to the ring again. Neville made a point to keep soulmate talk sparse from then on.

“I’m really sorry,” Neville said, when he found Cesaro. “I didn’t know.”

“It’s alright, Neville,” Cesaro sipped at his coffee, even though it was well past nightfall. Maybe a cathartic thing. “Sometimes I wish I could swap places with him. I’d give it all up to see him wrestle one more time. In the ring; the way his face just.. The way he smiles, he...”

Neville frowned sympathetically. “Doesn’t Xavier have a time machine? Maybe it can travel through dimensions as well.”

That got a laugh out of Cesaro. “What a world that’d be, huh?”

 

* * *

 

Neville grimaced as he was elbowed by Alberto Del Rio, who conveniently parked himself and his over six foot League of Nations buds in front of his view for the pre-Pay-Per-View meeting. _Wankers_.

“We have a slight change to the card tonight,” Steph McMahon’s voice boomed over the function room. Not that Neville could see. Beside him Dolph was slapping himself to not fall asleep, languidly chewing on a piece of gum. A murmur swept over the room, superstars hoping their matches weren’t about to get cut. “Where’s Neville?”

All eyes fell on the Geordie as he cautiously poked his head around the League of Nations.

“You have a new opponent tonight. You’ll be at the beginning of the second hour.” Steph said, eyes on her iPad.

“Who’s my opponent?” Neville asked, confused.

Steph put on a practiced smile, but there was malevolence behind it. “It’s a surprise.”

 

* * *

 

The crowd was murmuring in a confused hush. Neville felt the same, pacing back and forth on the mat, cloak still tied around his neck. He must have forgotten to throw it off as he strode down the ramp. As much as he was the Man Who Gravity Forgot in the ring, a man with a boring name who was anything but that, he kept to himself backstage. It seemed strange that Steph had specifically chosen him for this kind of match.

The music of his theme faded out.

This was it.

Who was his opponent going to be? A sick pit in his stomach feared that it would be Dolph. No, he wouldn’t agree to that ri--

Ska music?

The words ‘ _Sami Zayn_ ’ splayed across the titantron and the entire arena came completely unglued, practically beside themselves that one of their favourite indie stars was skanking on a WWE stage. Neville felt all the breath punch out of him before the bell even rang as Sami rocketed towards him with his physical charisma, popping gracefully to his feet and slammed into him for a hug.

When he pulled away to beam, Neville’s mouth parted. He looked.. _older_.

“What are you doing here?” Neville asked, voice low and harsh. He should be happy. He should be happy, right? Sami was here. In WWE. But all he felt was ire. Already his spotlight, his individuality was being torn from him.

“So we can be together again! We’re gonna light this place on fire, Nev! You and me.” Sami grinned, as glowing as the sun. “Are you happy to see me?”

What was going on? Was he dreaming? Neville literally slapped himself and Sami’s stared at him, perturbed.

This wasn’t what Neville wanted. WWE was _his_ haven. He had finally made a name for himself outside of Sami and Kevin. He didn’t need to ride their coattails anymore. He didn’t need them to beat up bullies for him anymore. He didn’t _need_ Sami.

The crowd fell silent as Neville brought a hard slap clean across Sami’s face. As Sami stumbled, fury was thrown back at Neville but he didn’t care. Fuck them. Fuck Sami and fuck it all. He was going to take back what he had been working so hard for for nearly a year.

“You shouldn’t have come,” Neville spat, leaving Sami, too perplexed to be upset, in the middle of the ring as he signalled violently for the bell to be rung.

The match was fierce. One of their best. There was a melancholic brutality behind every one of Sami’s punches, heartbreak behind every arm drag. Neville knew what Sami wanted. He wanted them to have fought like they used to. How they would wrestle modest school gyms and ballrooms with passionate, faithful fans who wanted to see PAC and Zayn light them up with their chemistry.

“NO,” Neville screamed, as his feet connected squarely on Sami’s jaw for a springboard missile dropkick. He whipped to his feet, not used to the crowd’s ire, swatting it away. “I DON’T NEED YOU ANYMORE.”

Sami _chose_ Kevin over him. Even before they found out their were soulbound. He’d known it all along he just never wanted to admit that it was true. He didn’t want to lose his two best friends in the world but they never really cared for him, had they? They just felt sorry for him. Coddled him. Treated him like a _child_ when he wanted to be treated as an equal.

Sami could stop pretending to love him now. It was over..

_It’s over._

As the bottom of Sami’s boot collided against the side of his face in the turnbuckle, collapsing to the mat, no energy left to kick out, it was over.

Sami was better than him. In the ring. At connecting with a crowd. In his life.

Neville had made so much progress but he still couldn’t even come close to Sami. Sami bloody Zayn. Perfect in every way. Neville shakily got to his feet, the titulating atmosphere not even registering for him. He looked up and his eyes widened.

Sami had his hand extended, reddened body dripping with sweat, eyes desperate for a truce. Neville was almost tempted to superkick to the mat, then drag his lifeless form into a deadlift German.

Neville bowed his head, expelling every ounce of poison from his lungs in one long exhale. He kicked Sami’s hand away and brought him into a hug by the neck, the crowd exploding around them. One day he would beat Sami.

But not today.

Neville deserved what he got. He’d been spoiled, selfish and immature to his ex-boyfriends. No wonder they would treat him like a child. Neville wasn’t like that anymore. He didn’t want to be _anyone’s_ kid.

Everyone.. but one, maybe.

Sami, panting and damp, sighed into him. “You scared me for a second there.”

“I’m sorry,” Neville dug his head deep into Sami’s chest. “You spooked me, I-- I didn’t mean what I--”

“It’s alright,” Sami smiled against his temple. “I forgive you. Come on, let’s go see Kev.”

“Kev’s here?!”

But Kevin was already in the ring, and threw his great big arms around them in a bear hug, raising them up, to the pure adoration of the audience. To them, Sami, Kevin and Neville were back in business. The promise that they would take over the world, just as they had for years in the indies.

Neville felt his world collapse in on itself as Kevin kissed him longingly on the forehead. He squeezed them together tighter and Sami giggled that Kevin was going to suffocate him. Neville relaxed into both of them. They would need to talk about all this but maybe.. maybe things would be okay like this.

“I’m sorry,” Kevin whispered. Neville wondered why and didn’t remember anything after that.


	7. Interminable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dolph drives Neville to the hospital. And what really went down at that PWG show?

_Mmngh._

“Nev?”

_Who’s--_

“NEV?!”

His eyelids were sticky and heavy as he opened them. Neville’s vision blurred around the edges as he blindly reached for his throbbing head. Not again. Though after the last time he had awoke from unconsciousness, he should have expected the person who was staring down at him, face contorted in concern, eyes wide and distraught.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” Neville purred despite it all, a sly smile tugging.

Dolph grinned helplessly. “Damn it, kid.”

A warm kiss was placed against Neville’s forehead and a feeling of security flood down to his boots. Dolph ducked to hug him tightly as Neville tried to focus in on his surroundings. At the realisation that they were in the med room, Neville jerked to a sit but Dolph was quick to grasp his shoulders as he reeled from a migraine he hadn’t realised was there.

“What happened?! Where’s Sami? Kevin??” Neville asked frantically; pleading even. He winced when another shot of pain pierced his skull.

Dolph took his hands away, and wrung them together awkwardly. It was unlike him to not jump at the opportunity to answer.

“Where’s Sami and Kevin?” Neville repeated sternly.

“Kevin..” Dolph echoed slowly, conflicted. “He... knocked you out then beat the fuck out of your friend.” He averted his eyes from Neville’s aghast expression. “Sami’s in hospital.”

“Yer fuckin’ lyin’ to me,” was the response that flew from Neville’s tongue. Dolph’s features tensed as the words inflicted him, keeping his gaze focused, anywhere but Neville.

 

* * *

 

Streetlights streaked by and faded into the dry, hot Sacramento night. Dolph hadn’t said a word since they left the med room, where Neville had to be forcefully held down to have his head checked for concussions (he hadn’t sustained one, thankfully- which meant Kevin had gone easy on him, not that he believed Kevin had attacked him at all). They were on their way to the hospital to see Sami to prove to Neville that Dolph was telling the truth.

At which point Neville would holler and laugh at Dolph when Sami indeed _wouldn’t_ be in hospital. Or if he was, it certainly wouldn’t be at the hand of Kevin.

Kevin would never do that to Sami.

To Neville, maybe. But Sami, never. People didn’t hurt Sami Zayn. Even people who hated him didn’t go out of their way to hurt him. Doing so would be nearly too much to bear. Truly, it would send a man insane.

Neville barely registered the tears slipping from his own eyes as he suddenly closed in on himself, pressing his forehead against the hard surface of the car door, wind whipping at his hair. He barely registered Dolph’s confused, strained yells of his name in the distance, and the way the car veered suddenly to a stop at the side of the road.

The image of Sami falling to his knees and breaking down during the PWG show erupted out of Neville in freezing sweat from his palms and violent shakes as jagged cries that jut out of him.

People didn’t hurt Sami Zayn but Neville had. Now Sami was in hospital.

Somehow, this was Neville’s fault. Who’s else could it be?

“Kid? Oh my god, kid, what the hell is going on?! What’s wrong?” Dolph’s voice cut through the sorrow somehow, and when Neville fell back to reality, he was soaked in sweat and tears, bundled up in Dolph’s arms awkwardly across the front seats of the car.

Neville’s breath came in too fast and short for him to try and choke out an answer. He could hardly believe he was having a panic attack right in front of Dolph Ziggler. First one he’d had in years. Usually, Sami had been the one to calm him out of it.

“Look at me alright?” Dolph said.

Neville managed to comply, the air being punched out of his lungs raggedly but clung desperately to those wide, blue eyes.

“Breathe with me.”

 

* * *

 

“What the fuck just happened?!” Someone in a Sami Zayn and Kevin Owens shirt yelled as Neville forced them aside. “Hey, watch it!”

The uproarious PWG crowd faded away, Neville pushing into the backstage. He had to fight his way around to the hallway which lead to Gorilla.

“PAC? Yo. PAC!”

Neville nearly careened off his feet as someone gripped him hard by the wrist in the greenroom. He whipped around to see Trent Baretta, who had an uncharacteristic amount of genuine worry across his features.

“PAC, what happened?!”

“Yer askin’ me?!” Neville snapped back. Screams from the ballroom permeated into the room, causing unrest in the crowded backstage.

“What’s going on?” Ricochet pushed Trent off Neville, a hand reaching back to see if his friend was alright. Once upon a time, Ricochet and him had trained together, Neville taking the younger wrestler under his wing, helping him build his confidence as a high flier. Now he looked several years older and was arguably a better in-ring performer too. Neville grit his teeth behind his jealousy. Why did everyone think he needed protecting?

“Sami just started crying in the middle of the ring for no reason. Nick pinned him and Owens went apeshit on the Bucks, there’s blood fuckin’ everywhere, man.”

“They lost the titles?” Ricochet blinked, mouth open. It was too unbelievable.

Neville pushed past as Trent started yelling about clean up, feeling the colour drain from his face. As he reached gorilla, he found Sami fighting against a group of their peers, trying to scratch and claw his way back out of the curtain, blood-curdling cries of Kevin’s name over and over.

“SAMI,” Neville roared and as their eyes connected, Sami’s knees gave out under him. He lurched forward to catch him but didn’t quite, lost his footing and ended up on top of his now ex-boyfriend. As the small portion of the roster around them went to help, a bloodied Matt Jackson was dragged through the curtain by Chris Hero, screaming obscenities about how psychopathic Kevin was.

The crowd forgot about Neville and Sami in favour of Matt and they lay in a tangle of limbs, covered in sweat and tears, breath heaving at each other.

“Are you okay?” Neville husked.

“No,” Sami said bluntly.

Neville blinked, “What happened?”

“You’re leaving me,” Sami choked, “I mean.. I meant us. You’re leaving us.” His voice fell to a whisper, barely decipherable over the commotion in the fading background. “Do you hate me or something?”

Neville felt his blood run cold. His grip froze. He couldn’t move, let alone speak. He didn’t understand. Sami had been so supportive earlier and now?... Had Sami lied to protect his feelings?

As Neville opened his mouth to tell Sami how ridiculous he was for thinking for even a second that Neville could hate him, a large, powerful hand shoved him away. Kevin was there, blood soaking his entire face and halfway up his arms, staining into the parts of his shirt that weren’t black. Neville’s gut twisted at how much a crazed monster he really did look.

Kevin cradled Sami lovingly, blood smearing onto his freckly skin as he shakily cupped his cheek. “Who hurt you?” Kevin asked softly, though his voice trembled with the aftershocks of his anger.

Neville’s breath quickened, a cold sweat already forming on his forehead. With Kevin already so incensed, he wouldn’t hesitate to destroy whoever had hurt his soulmate. Even Neville.

Sami met Neville’s eye, who swallowed thickly. He reached up and pulled Kevin’s forehead down against his own, squeezing his lids shut tight. “The Bucks,” he answered hoarsely, to Neville’s shock. That had been a straight out lie.

“I’m gonna kill them,” Kevin groused. “I’ll show them what happens when they fuck with the Champions.”

“Kev,” Sami pulled his head back, eyes widening, “Not anymore.”

“What are you talking about?”

“We los-.. _I_ lost the titles.”

Kevin looked confused.

“I’m so sorry, Kev.”

Putrid anxiety rose in Neville’s throat, and he scrambled to his feet, desperately pushing out into a nearby stage door which lead into the steamy rainfall. Acid and bile stung his tastebuds as he collapsed on all fours and choked out his terror onto the pavement.

 

* * *

 

Sami lay on the hospital bed, all the room lights off as it was after visitor hours (Dolph sweet-talked the nurse at reception into letting them in because of course he could), head turned to stare at the Sacramento skyline outside the window. A myriad of lights and beeping machines were flicking around him, illuminating his left arm which had been wrapped up and secured against his torso.

Dolph cleared his throat gently behind Neville as they both stood in the doorway. “I’ll be just out here,” he said quietly, then left.

Neville’s heart was racing at a million miles an hour as he gingerly approached the hospital bed. Who the hell would do this? Not Kevin. Please not Kevin. He wouldn’t. It was impossible.

“What happened, Sami.”

Sami didn’t answer immediately. His face was devoid of emotion, not taking his gaze from the window. “I don’t know,” he said finally. “He just kept yelling about how he was the one who made me and that I was an idiot for not expecting this.”

Neville’s expression contorted, “Who?”

“Ke--,” Sami’s voice failed him. “Owens,” he then stated emotionlessly.

“What the fuck?!”

Sami shrugged helplessly then bowed his head. “WWE was his idea. He said we could all be together again. I didn’t know he was planning… this.”

Neville collapsed back onto the chair by the bed. They remained in silence for a while. At least ten minutes, if he could guess. Occasionally Sami sniffed, or made a weird noise with his throat like he was holding back tears but Neville didn’t have the energy to check if he was okay.

“I can stay,” Neville broke the long silence. He pulled himself to the bedside and crawled to hug around Sami’s midsection pathetically. A hand from Sami hesitated but then found it’s way to Neville’s hair, stroking ever so gently.

“You have Raw tomorrow,” Sami reminded him sadly.

“I don’t care.”

“I do. Kevin thinks he can get away with this... My shoulder’s fucked but you’ve never been better, Nev.” Sami forced Neville to look at him. The moonlight really accentuated the crows feet at the corner of his eyes. “Just.. be careful, okay?”

Sami and Kevin’s link had been severed. Were they still soulmates now, or what? What happens to a person when they betray their soulmate? Neville had no clue.

 

* * *

 

Dolph was asleep on a couch just outside the hospital room when Neville eventually made his way into the hallway. Sami’s future was up in the air, but for the next week or so he would need to rest up in hospital and after that Neville was committed to helping him get better. Whatever he needed.

It’s not like they were back together or anything, but… Neville wasn’t sure what they were anymore.

“Sorry,” Neville apologised after shaking his friend awake.

“All good, kid,” Dolph yawned, glancing to his phone for the time. “It’s only a five hour drive to Bakersfield.”

Neville made a guilty noise. It was already so late. “I’ll buy you dinner. Whatever you want.”

“Chipotle?” Dolph said hopefully, entire face lighting up.

Neville groaned in defeat, but his heart felt a little lighter. Even in the face of such a grim situation, that was the kind of effect the Showoff had on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a while, life kind of punched me in the gut. This is a bit of a shorter chapter too. I might go over it tomorrow for some gentle edits but I just wanted to get something posted.
> 
> Please leave a review if you've been reading this! Your enthusiasm and love for this fic really helps me find the time to continue it. There are some more big plot twists coming in the next chapter so please let me know what you've been enjoying about Late Bloomers so far!!
> 
> Much love to you, dear readers :)


	8. Timeless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dolph opens up to Neville about his past. Neville helps Sami with his recovery. Seth learns why his desire to live forever might not be the most ideal life goal.

“But you said you’d buy me anything I want.”

“Don't blame me, blame Chipotle. They're the one’s not open at three in the bloody A.M.”

Dolph sunk lower into his seat with a pout. It was only an hour left in the drive to Bakersfield when a 24 hour roadside diner lit up the pitch black horizon. Neville made the executive decision and pulled into the dusty carpark, ignoring Dolph’s uninspired whining.

“But babe!” Dolph had protested, loudly dragging his feet along the gravel. Such a child. “Chipotle!“

“I'm hungry. And stop that, you're going to scuff your shoes.”

“Whatev, Mom,“ Dolph stuck out his tongue, then his eyes widened at Neville’s expression took a sudden serious turn.

Neville pushed into the diner entrance, Dolph behind, rubbing the pink punch mark on his arm sorrily. It was quite a warm night and the diner had no air-conditioning, so they sat outside, Californian mountain ranges and a bright starry nightscape as their backdrop. There was a nearby lake, which was surrounded by the only patch of greenery for miles. They watched dozing ducks in an exhausted silence until their meals arrived. An occasional bat or owl swoop past in the moonlight. It was nice. Deserts and lagoons always reminded Neville of Dolph nowadays. Neville sung the lyrics TO Wonderwall in his head.

“I’ve been wondering something,” Neville said, seemingly out of the blue. Despite his clenching stomach, he was oddly too apprehensive to start on his food just yet.

“‘Bout what?” Dolph asked through a mouthful of his burrito. He frowned and picked at a soggy tear of the non-Chipotle tortilla.

“Ages ago, that night we slept in the motel...”

Dolph glanced up with a smirk. “Oh yeah? What about it?”

Neville’s eyes averted, conflicted. “Randy called you George before you stormed out.”

Dolph was surprised by the question. He swallowed, then sighed, running a hand over his cheek thoughtfully. Neville’s gut twisted with more than hunger with each passing second until Dolph finally murmured, “That’s one of my old names.”

“One of?” Neville squinted. “Hold up..” _Old names_? Did this mean he hadn’t always gone by Dolph? Neville was curious now. “How many names have you had?”

“Too many,” Dolph laughed. “When I met Randy, I was George Wagner.” That was familiar to Neville, who opened his mouth but Dolph continued before he could guess, glancing away bashfully. “Also known as, Gorgeous George.”

“Yer lyin’.”

“I swear to you!”

“Bloody hell. You’re a propa pioneer, Dolph.”

“It was a completely different industry back then.” Dolph squeezed his shoulders, uncharacteristically coy but clearly enjoying having the opportunity to let Neville in on the secret.

Neville’s brows bunched up. “Hold up, I thought Gorgeous George died way back when.”

“Oh.. yeah, well, when I wanted to move on from that part of my life I, uh, faked my own death.” Dolph let out a short, nervous laugh then gestured his fork across the table. “I don't suggest you do that, by the way. Too much work than it’s worth.”

Neville’s pancakes were abandoned as he leaned over them with interest. “So? What did you do after?”

Dolph rocked side to side slowly, at odds with himself. “I took a break from wrestling. Actually, I was going to retire forever but, uh, there was.. _someone_ who drew me back in.”

“Randy?”

“No! God, no.. Not Randy.” Dolph’s voice trailed away, staring at some clouds blocking the view of the milky way.

“Who?!”

“Look, kid, I--”

“Oh, come on, Dolph. You think I’m gonna prattle?”

“Gonna what? You know, never mind. It was Shawn.”

“Michaels?”

“Yeah.”

“But..” Neville squinted, trying to recall the WWE timeline that he remembered. “Wasn’t Shawn nearly retired by then?”

“Not as Dolph, babe.”

Neville tilted his head innocently.

“Fuck, This is crazy,” Dolph exhaled and combed a loose thread of hair back, “I never do this. I never tell people this shit.”

“Who were you, Dolph?!”

“I.. used to wrestle as Billy Gunn.”

“You're Billy Gunn, Gorgeous George _AND_ Dolph Ziggler?!“ Neville stared in awe and disbelief, accent out of control. “This is propa insane, mate. God almighty..”

Dolph snorted without helping it. “When I say it out loud like this, it kind of is,” he laughed lightly, blushing.

“So,” Neville scratched his goatee as he pieced the story together. “You joined DX for Shawn?”

“Yeah,” Dolph admitted, “But he was already retired the first time. I didn’t know if he was even coming back, I just wanted to be associated with him by any means possible. I’ve never.. had _feelings_ for anyone like I did with him. I just.. I was so certain we were meant to be together. Then he came back, and I was so happy. It took me so fucking long to build up the courage to confess to him.” An indignant laugh rushed out of him. “I asked him out that weekend and he said yes! Then literally the next day he found a grey in his beard.”

Neville remembered. “Triple H.”

Dolph pulled one leg up to hug his knee under his chin. “Fucking soulbound with him. Everyone thought Hunter and Steph McMahon were soulbound but it was just a coincidence that they found their soulmates at the same time.”

“Did you still go on the date.”

“No. Fuck no. He was all crying and so happy he ‘ _found his smile again_ ’ with fucking Hunter,” Dolph said, making his voice huskier in mockery.

“Does anyone in WWE know you were Billy Gunn?”

“Couple people. Management types, though. Like Vince and Steph.”

“Have you seen Shawn since then?”

“Not since he and Hunter retired together. I was so distraught, but I didn’t have anything else but wrestling, you know? It was the only thing keeping me going. So--” Dolph paused, like he was deciding which ending of the story he was going to choose. “-- I remade myself. And here I am.” Dolph physically closed up awkwardly as soon as he realised Neville was just staring at him with that unreadable intensity. His eyes flicked away for a second. “Wh-What?”

“Nothin’. I just think you’re incredible.”

“Incredibly unfortunate, you mean.”

“No, the way you can reinvent yourself and be successful every single time.”

Dolph snorted, “Trying to flatter your way into my pants or something?”

“Well _that’s_ not difficult,” Neville smirked. “You’re practically starved for attention.”

“Babes throw themselves at me, it’s not my fault,” Dolph shrugged.

“Uh huh,” Neville nodded sarcastically.

“Not just anyone’s attention, though.”

“What do you mean?”

“Babes like you,” Dolph smiled slyly, sliding a hand across the table to take Neville’s tentatively.

Neville’s eyes widened with a blush, and suddenly found himself staring at his cold, untouched pancakes. Dolph tugged on his chin gently with his other hand and guided their lips together into a tender kiss. The deliberateness of it made Neville’s heart nearly tear right out of his chest.

That night they shared a hotel room and for a wonderful moment Neville was able to forget about Sami and Kevin and all the inferior thoughts he mentally wrestled with with on a daily basis. Just him and Dolph’s hundred or so years of expertise between the sheets, hot and heavy. Neville felt so lucky, for all Dolph’s faults, that he was able to experience something so sincere with someone so special.

“I could be fucked by you forever,” Dolph sighed that night, through gasps of pleasure.

“Be careful what you wish for,” Neville panted, draping himself over his lover’s back, cock bumping against the flesh of his ass.

It went unsaid, but Neville hoped he could fuck Dolph forever too.

 

* * *

 

Sami slammed the towel he was using for shoulder exercises on the ground with his good arm. “I can’t fucking do this for much longer.”

“It’s only been two months,” Neville reminded. It came out unintentionally harsh and he watched as Sami crumpled to the ground and hung his head between his knees, back rising and falling in thick breaths.

Neville had been checking up on Sami as much as he could during the recovery but it was tough. Sami had become extremely irritable and he was still mourning his breakup with Kevin. He became the worst kind of person when he was like this.

 _Kevin_ … Neville had tried to get hands on him but the prizefighter was slippery when he wanted to be. He was avoiding fights wherever possible, and was so far up Stephanie’s ass that she refused to book Neville against him. In fact, Neville felt himself slipping down the midcard so much so that he was certain Kevin was behind it.

Back in the gym, Sami wasn’t saying anything and Neville knew forcing him wasn’t going to help so he went back to his dumbbell supersets.

“I’m thinking of moving to Orlando,” Sami said after a long while.

Neville paused, and put his dumbbells down. “But your place in Canada?”

“It doesn’t feel like home anymore,” Sami grimaced, staring at the floor, “Kevin can keep it.” He looked up hopefully, “Maybe I could stay with you for a while?”

“Ah,” Neville pinched his lips guiltily, “My lease ran out months ago. I’ve been stayin’ with Dolph in Phoenix while I look for somethin’.”

“Oh,” Sami murmured with a deliberate woe-is-me tone of voice. “You guys are pretty serious, huh?”

“We’re just friends.”

“ _Just friends_ ,” Sami echoed bitterly.

Neville couldn’t stand the way Sami seemed to deflate. “Living with Dolph ain’t permanent” he quickly added, “Maybe we could go halves on somethin’? It would work out well because I don’t have time to be lookin’ at places; you can just send me pictures and videos of the ones you like?” He hadn’t actually been planning to re-settle in Orlando, but if it would give Sami something to take his mind of Kevin and the injury, it was worth it.

Sami brightened up immediately, “Really?”

"Hey guys."

Neville looked over his shoulder, smiling as Cesaro jogged over to meet them.

"Oh, hey Claudio," Sami said, giving a friendly wave.

"It's just Cesaro now."

"Oh," Sami said. Neville glanced between them, surprised that they hadn’t crossed paths since the indies.

"Anyway, did you guys hear the news?" Cesaro said.

Neville shook his head, "What news?"

"McMahon just did a press conference. They're going to do a brand extension. Split the rosters." Cesaro explained, leaning on the dumbbell rack.

Sami and Neville looked at each other curiously.

"When?" Neville asked.

"Eight weeks," Cesaro said.

 

* * *

 

The entire roster was abuzz with draft speculation. Who was going where? Were soulmates safe from being split up? Was it going to be a random draw or chosen by the GMs? Everyone had their opinions, especially after Shane McMahon declared he would run Smackdown and change the mentality, focusing less on the management and more on the essence of prowrestling. Neville couldn’t help but feel himself drawn to the promise of Smackdown’s future.

And there was still the issue of Kevin. Part of Neville wanted them to be drafted to different brands so he could live a little more peacefully, another part of him hoped they wouldn’t be split up so he could make Kevin’s life hell. The polarising wants kept him up at night.

 **you awake babe?** Dolph would sometimes text during the early hours of the morning from the next hotel room over.

**Yeah. Can’t sleep a wink these days.**

**neither. just want this to all be over already**  
**dont even have the energy to make jokes anymore**  
**losing my touch….**  
**just not my touch on you ;)**

**Hah, you git.**

**:D**

The most frustrating thing about it all was being constantly solicited by backstage interviewers leading up to the draft show. It was impossible to avoid and eventually Neville didn’t want to be interrogated with any more questions of which, why, how.

After one such interview, Neville’s pocket vibrated urgently and his heart did a strange flip when he saw Seth’s name. Seth never called him. Either a butt-dial or something was seriously wrong. Neville dreaded the latter.

“Seth, you alright buddy?” Neville spoke into the receiver, power-walking to a quieter hallway to listen.

Seth's voice was strained, his breathing heavy. “Where are you? We need you right now.”

Neville’s heart drove up into his throat. “Who's we? What's going on, Seth?!”

“It’s Dolph. Just hurry up, we’re in Stephanie’s trailer.”

Neville didn't need telling twice. He booked it out of the arena and between the rows of caravans. The atmosphere was nostalgic, back to when Dolph and himself had run amuck between the production vans. A sickening feeling sunk in his stomach. Seth sounded uncharacteristically worried on the phone and a million concerning situations flooded Neville’s brain.

Stephanie jumped as the van door slammed open, turning around to see a panting Neville, doubled over to catch his breath at the top of the van’s three stairs. “That was fast,” she remarked.

Seth huffed and turned his cheek at the comment. He was leaning against the fridge, arms crossed and foot tapping nervously.

That’s when Neville saw Dolph, laid out on the caravan’s narrow couch, entire face pink and gleaming with sweat. His hoodie was zipped halfway down his bare chest and Neville’s brow furrowed at the sight of an erection pushing up under Dolph’s tights. His hands were shakily at his sides, like he was struggling with his entire bosy to not touch himself. A surprisingly impressive amount of self-control for the Showoff.

“What's.. going on?” Neville’s asked warily, feeling strange to have walked into something so dubious. Aside from the fact, Dolph looked as if he was in genuine pain.

“He’s _Recrudescing_ ,” Steph sighed plainly, brushing her ponytail back over her shoulder.

 _Oh_. Neville had heard about Recrudesce before, but it was a pretty taboo subject. Something like if someone was trapped at eighteen long enough, the body struggles to cope and forces the person back into incredibly intense puberty symptoms. Not a lot of people stayed eighteen long enough for it to be a topic needed to be well educated on. Neville had read the article on wikipedia once a long time ago but even that was pretty scarce of information.

Seth looked uncomfortable, “How do we fix it?” Neville figured he hadn’t ever had to deal with Recrudesce before either.

“Carefully,” Steph said, “Usually we have Randy deal with it. He's got the most experience, but he's over a thousand miles away and we don’t have that sort of time to spare.” She moved next to Dolph and brushed wet ringlets of hair out of his eyes, “How’s it feel, Bill-- Oh! Uh, I mean Dolph,” she caught herself, glancing between Neville and Seth guiltily.

“Don't worry, I know,” Neville said cooly, not taking his eyes off Dolph.

“Know what?” Seth asked.

“Really?” Steph ignored Seth, suddenly intrigued. “So you two _are_ close, huh?”

“Uhh,” Neville hesitated, feeling increasingly self-conscious.

Dolph moaned like his spleen had been cut open, head lolling to the side. He was completely out of it. All Neville's muscles tensed with panic.

“What do I need to do?” he asked, trying not to sound too frantic.

“Work it out of him. Gently. No matter how much he begs, and he will beg. You don't want to injure him,” Steph explained ambiguously. “Understand now, Seth? This is why when you say you want to be immortal, people say you’re an idiot. Living for a hundred or more years is torture.”

Seth stared at Dolph sorrily as Neville knelt down next to him, hands hovering over his sweating body, unsure of how to handle him. Dolph’s body was so hot that Neville could feel the heat radiating out of his pores.

“Come on Seth, I’d rather not stick around to watch,” Steph said, and Seth locked eyes with Neville one last time before they departed. His eyes said everything, ‘ _Make sure he’s okay_.’

It took nearly half an hour for Neville to work an orgasm out of Dolph. Steph was right, Dolph begged and pleaded, his voice vulnerable and desperate that made it difficult for Neville to not completely lose it himself. When hands and mouth didn’t work, Neville had to carefully reposition Dolph on the couch to fuck it out of him. Dolph’s ass was already alarmingly loose, like he’d been wearing a buttplug all day.

It wasn’t enjoyable for Neville at all. Dolph wasn’t of sound mind and even though he was consenting, Neville couldn’t tell how much of that was Dolph, or the Recrudesce. But if Neville didn’t do this, Dolph was going to get seriously injured. So, Neville pushed through the guilt and fucked Dolph slowly, despite the alluring moans of more. He focused on Dolph’s body, his ass and the way his hands would grip the side of the couch before going limp for a few seconds in ecstasy. His hair and his eyes and the sculpt of his back. Dolph was so incredibly beautiful. Incredibly perfect. And when Dolph finally choked out Neville’s name for the final time as the Recrudesce was released, Neville found his mind clotted with emotions of how important this man had become to him.

“Neville,” Dolph croaked after five minutes, pupils readjusting like he was coming down off a trip. Neville had already cleaned up the mess, opened a couple of windows to air out the muggy caravan and was cross-legged beside Dolph, who was lying on the floor. Neville put down the sweat-soaked gym towel and lowered his forehead close to Dolph’s.

“That was scary,” Neville whispered.

“You’re on some other shit.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“In a good way. I’ve never met anyone like you, kid. You’re on a whole other level. I’m, like, honestly kind of obsessed with you.”

“Why?”

“You don’t know how amazing you are.”

“This is.. all a lot to process right now.”

“Want me to make it worse?”

“Not really, I just want you to rest.”

“I love you, kid.”

Dolph’s smile seemed to contain the universe; tears in the corners of his eyes. Neville’s skin tingled strangely. He had never, ever seen anyone look at him with so much adoration and pride. Never in the way Dolph did.

“I.. I love you too,” Neville echoed in a sort of stunned, automatic way but knew for certain that he meant all those words with all his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Late Bloomers is back with a vengeance! I have most of the ending already written so all I have to do now is bridge the gap.
> 
> It's good, too. I can't wait to share it with you all.
> 
> Please kudos if you enjoy, chuck a little comment my way if you can and thank you as always for your support of this story!


	9. Enduring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draft day is here. Neville and Randy have a heart to heart and who's going to be drafted where?

Rooftops of arenas had always been a place of respite for Neville. It was one hour until the draft show and he had never been in a backstage atmosphere so tense before. When Neville’s felt his neuroticism at a breaking point, he fled to the nearest fire escape and climbed as far as he could go. An east coast show meant it was already dusk, and the lights of the city below were flickering on one by one.

"Nice view.”

Neville spun around and was shocked to see it was not Dolph, but Randy, hands in his sweatpant pockets, wearing a sly smile. For once the nice view was not his ass but the actual view.

"Bloody heck, Randy."

"Didn't mean to frighten you. Saw you scramming off somewhere and was curious. You're like one of those superheros my kids love, going up to the roof for some peace and quiet. You got the cape n’ all, too."

Neville blushed, "That what it looks like?"

Randy shrugged in agreement and leant over to the railing to gaze at the city. "It’s pretty and it's quiet, I can tell why you like it."

"Thanks," Neville said stupidly.

"So, what's on your mind?"

Neville heart turned over in his chest. Since when did Randy ask people what was on their minds? Neville wasn't even sure Randy knew what was going on in his own. "A lot of things.. I suppose,” he answered through a sigh, “To be frank, I'm sick of havin’ to answer questions about which brand I want to be drafted to."

Randy nodded slowly. "Out of curiosity: where _do_ you want to go?"

"Smackdown."

"Good choice. Me too.”

Neville dropped his cheek into his palm against the railing. "And I'm just thinkin’ about my friend Sami. Well, ‘ex’ is a more apt description. When I realised he and Kevin were actually here in WWE I was honestly super jealous and hateful. I felt like they were trying to steal my thunder. I had been doin’ so well here so far without ‘em, you know? My whole career has been attached to them. Well, in America, anyway; where it counts. An’ the three of us used to be together _all the time._ Then Kevin did what he did... I still don't understand."

Randy pondered for a bit. "Maybe Owens felt the same way. Maybe he wants to make a name of his own."

Neville hadn't taken that into consideration. Now, he felt ugly and guilty to have more in common with Kevin's actions than not. He sighed out of frustration.

Randy continued in his typical low, apathetic voice, "We live in this world where everything revolves around the person you're going to be with for the rest of our lives; we forget to put ourselves first. Sami and Kevin will make up eventually. The distance will make their soulbond stronger. I've seen it happen a hundred times before."

"Do soulbounds split up often?"

"Not often. Maybe once every couple hundred years I’ve seen it. Your boys aren't split, though. Souls are bound to light as much as they are to the darkness.”

“What do you mean?” Neville asked, face twisting at Randy’s poetic ambiguity.

“I mean, they're destined to do this forever. Whether its making love or fighting, they’ll always be entwined. Those are the kind of couples that can’t bear to be without each other. Personally, I don't like it. I like when people seek a sense of self, rather than dependence on another. It's something Dolph never learned."

Mesmerized with a blinking green light in the distance, Neville he felt his stomach do a little flip as Dolph was mentioned. With Randy being so uncharacteristically open, Neville felt he had no choice but to satisfy his own curiosity. “Dolph told me Shawn was the only person he'd be okay being soulbound to.”

“I don't mean bound. I mean that he constantly needs validation. He always needs to be fucked by something to feel like he's worth anything. Why else would he be a playboy? He's not self-sufficient.”

Neville bit the inside of his cheek, then looked away. “I suppose I have more in common with him than I thought. Maybe not the fucking part. I just always feel like I always have somethin’ to prove.”

“You're a small kid in a big man's world, I don't blame you.”

Neville flinched. It was a fact he pretended to ignore but it always hurt when it was so blatantly underlined. “Can I ask you something?" he changed the subject.

"Shoot."

"Well, Bob Orton Jr.'s supposed to be your dad right? Or was that just a stint for WWE? He was a lot older when you first started.. Unless..."

Randy let out a short laugh and rubbed his eye. "Nah, Bob's my kid."

Neville blinked. “What?”

"Yeah, he was obsessed with wrestling really early on so I used to take him to the shows in our area. That’s how I met Dolph, actually. Well, he was George then. Bob wanted to start training and he used to practice all his moves on me. I sorta picked it up on the way and got into it professionally years later. Something like that, anyway.” Randy rubbed his temple with a palm, “Sorry, I can't remember the dates or anything, it’s difficult to remember all the exact details. Time moves so fast these days I can barely keep up.”

“‘Course. I assume it doesn’t come up often.” Neville could fill in the blanks just fine. He assumed Bob would’ve trained Randy and then they came up with the role switch to create a compelling story and protect Randy’s identity. It certainly worked. Neville wished he had something else interesting about his life that didn’t revolve around being Sami and Kevin’s third wheel.

“Yeah, I try keep that shit to myself but, I dunno, I like you, kid. You’re different from most people that come and go. I didn’t get why Dolph was so obsessed with you at first but now it makes more sense.”

Neville felt his heart quicken, “Is he really, though?”

Randy turned to look at Neville, about to answer, then paused, squinting. Neville blinked as Randy pinched his chin and turned his cheek from side to side, scrutinising.

“Wh-What?” Neville asked, eyes wide and frozen on the spot.

“Hm,” Randy shook his head and let Neville go, “I just thought you looked a little.. Nah, it’s just the lighting.”

“Oh, you thought I might be..” Neville’s heart plummeted. “Is there any easier way to tell?”

“Nope. Unless you wanna get one of those expensive ass DNA tests done every month. Usually, someone else you haven’t seen for a while notices a wrinkle or gray hair. The change is so minute day to day, it’s difficult to tell yourself.”

“I’m never gonna find anyone,” Neville sighed.

“You don’t need a soulmate. You’ll have us,” Randy said with a rare smile and Neville beamed in response. Did he just get Randy’s lifelong approval? Neville was walking on air.

“I wanted to thank ya,” Neville blurted out, and wrung his hands. “Durin’ my early days of WWE, Seth was being a bully at me and you told him to quit it. I was honestly so close to leaving the company at the time, but havin’ you back me up was, like.. I dunno. Felt good. And I’m so glad I decided to stay.”

Randy’s looked puzzled. “Oh, you shouldn’t be thanking me.”

“But you--”

“That was Dolph. He told me to go make Seth leave you alone but I said no. Then he offered me three hundred dollars. Now, I don’t like involving myself in other people’s business but I do like easy cash. Now that I think about it, I’m surprised he just didn’t fend of Seth himself.” Randy paused thoughtfully, “He didn’t tell you?”

“No.” Neville’s hands were trembling.

“That’s unlike him,” Randy scratched his jawline. “He must really like you if he didn’t take up the opportunity to brag about saving your ass.”

“He… said he loved me,” Neville said without thinking, then immediately regretted it. He’d just won Randy over, let’s not push it. Surprisingly, Randy’s face brightened with interest.

“Really? Well that’s interesting. When was that?”

“Few weeks ago.”

“So, you guys are steady now?”

“I.. I dunno. I mean, we ride together and I was stayin’ at his place for a while. We almost always sit together at catering and sometimes we share a hotel room..”

“You text a lot?”

“Every day.”

“Kissing?”

“Of course.”

“The sex?”

Neville let out a loud breath to indicate that it was incredible, then caught himself before he divulged too much information.

“Sounds like you’re dating to me,” Randy raised a brow.

Dating. Neville’s heart felt warm at the thought of dating Dolph. He never thought Dolph would ever be the go steady type. The very concept put Neville in a dream state. “I’m not too sure but I suppose need to have a discussion about it,” Neville said finally. “What do you think?”

“You and Dolph? Ya’ll are pretty cute.”

Neville felt his cheeks go hot. “Wait! But what about you and Dolph?”

“What about us?”

“You two still aren’t talking. Come on, Randy, I know for a fact Dolph adores you. You mean a lot to him and he’s been hurtin’ since your fight.”

“It’s not my problem,” Randy’s voice went icy.

“But--”

“Trust me, kid. It’s not my problem. Me and Dolph will have another fifty years to figure this shit out. There’s no rush.” Neville’s shoulders fell. His expression must’ve been just as dejected because Randy considered it for a while, then sighed. “Fine, I’ll talk to him.”

“Yes!” Neville blurted out in celebration. They were back on the road to getting the proverbial band back together. Things were looking up. “And who knows, we might all become travel buddies again.”

“Unlikely. Travelling with Dolph is horrible. He got us stranded in the fucking desert!”

Neville scuffed his boot bashfully against the ground. “Yeah, that was horrible,” he lied.

 

* * *

 

**“WE DRAFT SETH ROLLINS FOR RAW BRAND!”**

“YES!“ Seth jumped out of his seat, punching the air, to the applause of no one. “Number one pick, baby. That's right. That's right, all you assholes, you can suck my--”

“Shut the fuck up, Rollins.”

“What?! Who said that?”

Neville sighed and sunk deeper into his seat. An eighteen getting first draft pick in the WWE should’ve been a monumental moment but of course Seth had to ruin it by being his grimy self. The room for the draft viewing party was overcrowded and stuffy, smelling of testosterone and apprehension. He put a hand to shield the side of his face where Tyler and Xavier were whispering sweet nothings to each other about how there was no way they'd split couples, which was deliberately loud enough for everyone to hear. On his other side was Sami, silently burning holes in the back of Kevin’s head, their ex-boyfriend sitting in the front row with Chris Jericho, seeming to be having the best time of his life.

“I'm definitely going to get drafted next,” Jericho mewled.

“No way, I'm going to be the next pick,” Kevin flirted back.

“No, me.”

“No. Me!”

“Maybe they’ll draft us at the same time?”

“Oh, they _should_ do that!” Kevin grinned, before yelling at the projected picture on the wall flicking between Stephanie, Mick Foley and Daniel Bryan and Shane McMahon. “HEY YOU IDIOTS, DRAFT US TOGETHER.”

“YEAH! YOU STUPID IDIOTS!!”

Sami groaned loudly under his breath.

Neville glanced over to Dolph. He was staring intently at the broadcast, not speaking to anyone despite Cesaro sitting directly to his right. The two new rosters began to take shape, with the draft picks putting on red or blue shirts before mingling with their reassigned co-workers. Kevin and Chris were both getting increasingly frustrated with each draft pick that wasn't them.

“Hey,” Seth appeared in the row in front in front of Neville, proudly wearing his new red shirt. “You gonna come join Raw with me?“

“I want to go to Smackdown,” Neville said bluntly, ignoring Sami’s weird stare at him talking so casually to Rollins. “Besides I don't even think I'm gonna get chosen on air. I mean, I can’t remember the last time I was booked on an a-show. I think they forgot about me.”

“Or maybe Steph just hates you,” Seth snickered.

“She's gonna hate you too if you don't win the Championship back tonight,” Sami intoned in Neville’s defense. The corner of Neville’s mouth tugged victoriously at that.

**“WE CHOOSE THE VIPER, RANDY ORTON, TO COME TO SMACKDOWN!”**

Seth whipped his head to the broadcast, then over to Randy, who stood boredly and head over to team blue. His eyes flickered in their sockets vulnerably, mouth slightly parted. Seth looked more heartbroken than after he lost the WWE Championship.

“Oh, Seth. I'm so sorry,” Neville said, reaching out to touch Seth's arm. Seth ripped it back.

“Don't touch me! What do you know, huh? Fuck you. I hate you! You're so annoying, Neville. Don't.. Don’t talk to me anymore, alright?” his voice was strained, like his throat was in knots. “Fuck, I can't believe I ever let you think we were friends.”

Seth was so loud that half the room turned to observe. Meanwhile, Dolph was still staring at the feed, his expression barely changed like he didn’t care. Neville felt his heart twist uncomfortably in his chest. It didn't even matter that both Sami and Cesaro piped up to defend him. Seth stalked off to prepare for the main event and Cesaro held his hands up hopelessly with a small shake of his head before yelling a foreign insult in his direction.

“Hey, you okay?” Sami asked. Neville tore his eyes away from Dolph and stared at the ground.

“ **RAW DRAFTS… THE NEW DAY!”**

There was whooping and hollering from team red and Xavier indirectly shoved Neville as he furiously made out with Tyler.

“See you soon, babycakes,” Xavier purred.

“Go be gorgeous,” Tyler husked back.

“Neville?” Sami said again, shaking his shoulder.

**“AND… SAMI ZAYN!”**

Both Neville and Kevin turned their heads sharply to stare at Sami. The copper-top slowly rose to his feet, expression slack with confusion.

Sami was the first to be drafted out of the three of them? Neville had expected Kevin to be draft before him but Sami?! He had only _just_ returned from injury. Neville felt his insides twist with so much bitterness and anger and jealousy, he had to duck his head to wipe his eyes. Sami, seemingly on auto-pilot, walked to retrieve a red shirt to a welcome fanfare.

“HE’S ONLY HAD TWO MATCHES HERE,” Kevin yelled, pointing at Sami accusingly, “HE ONLY JUST GOT BACK.”

Neville didn’t want to be a part of this anymore. More than ever, he wished he was back in the desert with Dolph. Or getting late night Chipotle. Or sneaking into his hotel room so Dolph could use his pecs as a pillow , gently drawing lines around his abs before drifting off to sleep. Neville’s problems of old seemed so trite, compared to now. The draft was ripping everyone apart. Making everything worse.

 _And why hadn’t Dolph turned around to look at him once_?

**“CHRIS JERICHO, RAW!”**

“Raw, baybay!”

“WHAT?!” Kevin shrieked. He stood up and began to kick furniture, close to throwing a chair across the room before Big Show stepped in to subdue him. Neville shrunk into himself more, putting his head between his knees to try and block out everything.

**“WE WANT THE PRIZEFIGHTER, KEVIN OWENS ON RAW!”**

“FUCK YOU,” Kevin screamed at the projected feed. “I DON’T WANT YOU. I DON’T WANT TO BE WITH SAMI. I’M GOING TO SMACKDOWN.”

“You don’t have a choice,” Big Show tried to reason.

Neville closed his eyes, grit his teeth and put his hands over his ears. He felt like he was about to implode. With each pick, he felt more of his confidence erode away. Of course the company valued Kevin and Sami over him, despite them only being in WWE a quarter of the time. Despite Sami only having two matches. That’s how it always had been. He was used to this, so it shouldn’t be affecting him so badly. Neville glanced up, meeting eyes with Tyler two seats down, who was cross-armed and legged, foot bouncing irritatedly.

“Ew,” he said to Neville, glancing him up and down.

**“DOLPH ZIGGLER IS COMING TO SMACKDOWN!”**

Dolph stood immediately, avoided anyone celebrating and promptly retrieved his shirt. Neville didn’t take his eyes off him as he cut the sleeves off, punctured a v shape into the neck hole, then threw it on. Then he turned to lean against the table with all the shirts, still not looking anywhere but the projection on the wall.

Neville lowered his head into his hands, mouth moving silently. _Smackdown. Please, Smackdown,_ he begged. _Please, please, please, please._

**“WELL GRAVITY MAY HAVE FORGOTTEN HIM, BUT WE CERTAINLY HAVEN’T. RAW DRAFTS NEVILLE!”**

Stephanie’s voice boomed through the room. Being drafted live on air offered no solitude for the melancholy Neville felt. Randy and Dolph were his closest friends and he wasn’t going to be seeing them anymore. Instead, he would be stuck with his two ex-boyfriends and Seth bloody Rollins. _And_ he was chosen last out of all of them. Neville had come up with a few worst case scenarios to prepare him but this blew all of it out of the water.

Dolph’s gaze shifted to the ground, but only for a moment. Randy gripped him by the elbow and leaned to whisper something in his ear. Dolph pushed his lips together and nodded, casting a single glance to Neville for barely half a second. Then, both of them left the room. Neville stood without thinking, and let the red shirt thrown at him by Sami to roll off his shoulder onto the ground. A moment later, he pushed through the same door Dolph and Randy exited from.

“ _Now_ , you want to talk with me?” he could hear Dolph’s voice.

“Keep it down.”

They were further down the hallway. Neville kept up behind them as best he could without being detected. Eventually they found a quiet enough place to talk, where the rumble of Raw was dull enough to not need to yell. Neville flattened himself behind a roadcase and listened hard over the pump of his heart in his ears.

“What do you want, Randy?”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Randy’s voice had more emotion in it. Not by much, but more than usual. Like he could actually more real with Dolph compared to anyone else. It was ominous and made Neville’s stomach clench as he kept himself hidden.

“With _me_?”

“Seth was ripping into Nev and you didn’t do shit.”

“What? So, he’s my responsibility now?” Everything suddenly felt off. There was no compassion in Dolph’s voice. Like Neville had stepped into a weird alternate reality when he walked through that door. “Seth is _your_ plaything, why didn’t _you_ do anything?”

“That’s not the point. Look, just because you’re upset you and him got drafted to different shows--”

“THAT’S WHAT I WANTED,” Dolph boomed. Neville’s heart went cold, eyes wide as he stared into the middle distance. _What.. was happening_? “You’re talking like my whole life revolves around him. It doesn’t, alright?”

“Then, the fuck are you doing messing with his brain? Acting like ya’ll are steady?”

“Steady? _Steady_?! Fuck, I thought you would know me by now, Randy.”

“I do. You can’t just tell the kid you love him. You can’t lead him on like that.” It was difficult to tell if Randy genuinely cared as his tone faded back to monotone.

“Oh, jesus, he _told_ you? I was fucking Recrudescing, Randy. I’ve said some pretty fucked up shit to you too in the past. What’s the big deal, anyway? Why do you of all people all of a sudden care what happens to him?”

There was a pause like Randy was pondering. “I dunno, to be honest,” he finally said, “We’ve had some fun times in the last year, right? Seth notwithstanding. Shit wasn’t like that before he came along.”

“Just stop.” Dolph sighed audibly. “Whatever, Randy. You go be his best friend, or whatever. I’m done. I’m really honestly done.”

“What are you going to tell him?”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m on Smackdown, he’s on Raw. Eventually this will all fade like this mistake never happened.”

_Mistake._

Neville didn’t know where all of this was coming from. What had he done wrong? Was it because he moved back in with Sami? Or because Neville had become obsessed with trying to get revenge on Kevin? Or because he was depressed and boring from being off tv for so long?

_Or..._

Was it because Dolph Recrudescing meant there was no possible way he and Dolph were soulbound?

Neville’s consciousness tumbled back to earth and he stood up sharply, choking out over the roadcase, “Dolph wait, _please_!”

But there was no-one there.


	10. Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The road to Wrestlemania... 34.

**babe??**  
**you never txt me anymore :’(  
** **i know i can be a big old jerk and the draft shit has been hard but did i do something wrong???**

**You for real Ziggler?**

**?????**

**I didn't think you'd want to bother with a mistake like me.**

**babe what r u talking about ??**

**I HEARD you and Randy talking during the draft.**

**Oh.**

**You followed us?**

**Yes**

**To be honest, I'm kinda relieved. I wasn't sure how to bring it up.**

**You fucking asshole.**

**Sorry, kid.  
** **Lmao**

Neville’s howl of despair made roadcases shiver as his phone went flying across the hallway. Plastic and metal exploded against the exposed brick wall and the obliterated pieces shattered across the floor.

That night he lost to Bo fucking Dallas.

 

* * *

 

“Neville?”

Randy’s voice made him spin around on his heel, eyes widening. For all Neville’s in-ring talents, being sneaky was not one of them. He scowled.

“What are you doing here?” Randy asked, voice as ambiguous as ever.

Neville turned over the different excuses he had pre-planned in his head. “When Dolph loses tonight-” he began slowly,”When he loses his job- he’s going to need some emotional support. So, here I am.”

Randy glanced to the item wrapped in Neville’s trembling grip. “Emotional support… with a crowbar?”

Neville looked at the crowbar in his hand.

**“And your _new_ Intercontinental Champion… DOLPH ZIGGLER!”**

“Holy shit, he actually did it,” Randy said plainly, looking towards the echoing announcement in the direction of Gorilla. It was weirdly distant. Like another lifetime away.

Now was Neville’s chance. He rushed forward, but a firm hand from the Viper shoved him back before he could scramble past.

“I can’t let you do that,” Randy said, almost apologetically, then Neville’s face met the ground via RKO.

 

* * *

 

It felt good, the sting from his closed fist. Rich Swann and TJ Perkins were sprawled out across the ring. The crowds strong, visceral, _negative_ reaction pelting down on him from all sides. Neville did that to them. Just like Kevin would do to other people. And.. it felt good. Damn good.

If they had been Dolph, it would've felt even better.

Sami had tears in his eyes when Neville re-entered the locker room. “ _What did you do_?” he yelled, voice cracking along with his heart. Everyone else piled in there had gone quiet. All eyes on them. Judging.

Seth looked spooked. Kevin's expression was really weird. An emotion Neville couldn't place. A weird mix of disgust and.. pride?

Neville whipped his head back to Sami, “You should _not.._ be surprised.”

 

* * *

 

At the finish of his match at the Royal Rumble, Neville wasn't sure why the crowd cheered when he snatched the Cruiserweight Championship from the referee and jumped onto the second turnbuckle, hoisting the title into the air like it weighed a million tonnes. In a way, it did carry a lot of metaphorical weight.

Still, weren’t those people supposed to adore Rich and all the other wrestlers that got fast-tracked from the Cruiserweight Classic?

But they cheered for Neville.

Maybe he’d been going about this wrong the entire time. So many years pissing away opportunities in favour of his values. A small attitude change and a few short weeks later and he finally was holding a WWE Championship (not _the_ ) high above his head for the first time in his life.

It almost felt a little strange as he made his way back up the ramp, roughly hauling the heavy, validating title over his shoulder. It was his.

All his.

 

* * *

 

A loss never felt good. Let alone that of a title match. Worst of all, at Wrestlemania.

Neville had become so used to walking down the ramp with the affirming purple title safely in his grip, or across his shoulder, or around his waist. He felt lighter as he trudged towards his dressing room through the painfully long backstage of the Camping World Stadium.

“Snap out of it, Randy. Bray’s fucking with your mind, man.”

Neville paused and turned his head to see Randy shoving Dolph against a wall. “Shouldn’t you be off having another temper tantrum?” Randy said, rubbing his hand over Dolph’s perfectly styled hair in the way that a brother would goad his sibling. Dolph swiped at Randy’s beard but missed.

Neville didn’t want to hear the rest. He plugged his fingers into his ears and pressed on.

Why was Dolph even speaking to him? Wasn’t their friendship still in turmoil? Maybe they made amends since being on Smackdown together. Neville supposed Dolph had always clung to his bond with Randy, no matter how grave it seemed.

_Whatever._

 

* * *

 

**“Ziggler is nearly there! Rollins is nearly there! Could one of these two eighteens be our winner? Look at Dolph Ziggler’s shots to Rollins!”**

**“Those slugs are brutal. Dolph just bounced Seth’s forehead off the top of the ladder. God, he’s sliced right open!”**

**“Ouch! That was a long way down for Rollins. Rollins isn’t moving at all! Is this Ziggler’s opportunity? He’s reaching high--** ”

**“No! Not Dolph Ziggler, that guy is a menace!”**

**“He’s doing it! Dolph Ziggler is at the top of the ladder! Yes. Yes! Dolph Ziggler has done it!”**

**“Ladies and gentleman, here is your winner and Mr. Money in the Bank: DOLPH ZIGGLER!”**

Hot air expelled fast from Neville’s nostrils as he watched Dolph hug the briefcase on the live feed. Dolph was going to get an opportunity at the WWE Championship whenever he wanted now. Neville looked down and clenched his hands. He had been wasting way too much time trying to chase back after the Cruiserweight title. Screw that.

He wanted that WWE Championship.

He wanted revenge.

 

* * *

 

There would never be a dull crowd for a Sami Zayn and Neville match. Only this time Neville enjoyed ruthlessly beating Sami down. Cutting open his head with his knuckles. Spilling blood down over the freckles on his body. He wondered if Kevin enjoyed it too. Or if Kevin was jealous he wasn’t doing it to Sami himself.

Neville ducked the Helluva Kick, before jumping up to boot to the back of Sami’s head. It took a lot of effort to haul Sami up onto the top turnbuckle and Sami tried to fight back, but he kept getting blood in his eyes.

“Why are you doing this?” Sami wept, smearing the blood across his face with his forearms.

“I want that crown,” Neville growled, striking Sami in the solar plexus before hooking his arm around his neck. “I need to break back into this division somehow. And, it’s so fun to watch you writhe.”

Sami whimpered as Neville dragged his body up over his head into the superplex, bringing him back first into the mat. Neville scurried back up to the top turnbuckle again and hit the Red Arrow to finish the job. One, two, three. Finally.

 _Finally_.

He got the win on Sami.

“You see?!” Neville screeched down to Sami’s lifeless body, ripping off his arm protectors and throwing them at him. “I’m better than you. Now they all know.”

Almost like clockwork, Kevin was in the ring. Neville stumbled back warily, the keen memory of the last time all three of them were in the ring together returning back to him. There was that look in Kevin’s eye, blood-thirsty and dangerous, staring at Neville. Then, he went straight to stomping the living shit out of Sami. Neville joined in and a weird, giddy laugh erupted from Kevin’s throat.

“Even Neville,” Kevin told Sami gleefully as he got on his hands and knees to gloat right in his face.

“ _Even Neville despises you_.”

 

* * *

 

“Kevin, stop! Calm down! You’re going to get fined, you idiot!”

Wood split and metal clattered. Neville had to duck as broken parts of the locker room soared overhead, exploding behind him. Kevin was mere minutes out from losing his Universal Championship to Seth and was going absolutely bonkers on the locker room.

“ **And _new_ WWE Champion, Randy Orton!”**

Neville spun around to the live feed, eyes widening. The SummerSlam graphic sliced through the screen before showing the highlights of Randy’s fatal RKO on The Miz.

On the other side of the long locker room, completely ignoring Kevin’s destructive tantrum, Dolph’s gaze was glued to another television. Then he grabbed his slightly beat up Money in the Bank briefcase and sprinted through the door.

 

* * *

 

Cesaro, Jericho, Kevin, Roman and Seth all looked stunned as Neville walked out of gorilla. Oh yes. The King of the Cruiserweights was the surprise entrant in a 6-pack number one contenders match. It had taken months, but he had finally elevated himself into the highest title picture.

Neville paused at the edge of the stage and turned his head to where Sami was sitting with the commentary team, gleaming red Universal title over his shoulder.

Behind Sami’s furious stare was fear in his eyes. Neville was going to take advantage of that fear, once he got to him. All he had to do was win this match. Sami double took back to Corey as if he’d been ignoring a question being repeated at him. Neville rolled his wrists and strode confidently down the ramp, sliding into the ring.

As the bell tolled, Kevin rushed forward to pop-up powerbomb Neville, practically knocking him out. _Ugh, ow._ Neville felt his legs pin against his chest, but he was already so winded. _Kick out, you wanker, kick out, kick out, kick--_

If Cesaro hadn’t dove forward to break the deep cover, Neville would’ve been eliminated after a mere 10 seconds.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Kevin yelled at Cesaro before Seth took him out with a flying knee strike from his flank.

“God, Kevin’s a dick,” Cesaro said, helping Neville to a stand. Then a Swiss forearm clocked him across the cheek, causing him to stumble back through the ropes and onto the floor.

When Neville relatively came to, only Seth and Cesaro were left in the ring, slugging each other with exhausted strikes. How long had he been out? Judging by the booming chants of “Neville’s sleeping!”, a while. Kevin was hunched over Jericho, desperately trying to shake him awake. Roman was lying in ruins of where the announcers table once stood.

Neville jumped off the turnbuckle, hitting Seth and Cesaro each with a foot of a missile dropkick and the boos continued to thunder. “Oh, shut it,” he yelled at the audience. Neville quickly assessed the situation. Seth looked way more worse for wear, his hair already a fluffy mess. Cesaro came to first, and Neville soared over Seth to hurricanrana the Swiss Superman away, if only for a minute.

When Neville turned around, Seth was at his feet, eyes wide at Neville. Neville blocked a right but didn’t fire back. He looked behind him to Cesaro, then back to Seth, nodding invitingly. “We need to get rid of him,” Neville said, cautiously.

Seth blinked, confused. There was a rare flash of vulnerability, or maybe hope, then Seth shoved Neville away from him. “Ew, get off me!” The shove unfortunately sent Neville directly into a corkscrew uppercut.

It was only as he woke up in the med bay, Neville learned that Seth had tapped out of the Sharpshooter and Cesaro was the new number one contender.

 

* * *

 

Sometimes, Neville wished he could shrink into his locker and disappear. Kevin, beside him, seemed to feel the same. It was strange how Sami’s success seemed to have brought them closer together.

“What number did you pull?” Neville asked, hand tensing around the unopened capsule from the draw. His eye kept being drawn to Dolph and Randy’s match on the television feed.

“Eleven. Shit,” Kevin grumbled, who hadn’t taken his eyes off Sami for a second. Sami, beaten and sweaty, but on a high from his win, was surrounded by all his friends. All congratulating him. He cradled the red title lovingly. Still Champion. “You?”

Dolph was planted to the mat by an RKO and Neville just shook his head, looking down to open his capsule and find out what his Rumble draw would be.

**“HOW THE HELL DID DOLPH ZIGGLER KICK OUT OF THAT?”**

Neville’s eyes shot back up and the commotion from the locker room seemed to dim away. Dolph superkicked the stunned look off Randy’s face, who only staggered back. Then, Dolph leapt forward with the last of his energy to hook Randy’s neck for a Zig Zag. Cover. Randy kicked out and Neville’s stomach turned over angrily.

“Come on!” Neville yelled, voice shaking. Kevin gave him a dubious look. “I- I mean…”

The referee waved aggressively at the bell keeper to end the match, having to pry Dolph off Randy, who wouldn’t let go of the sleeper hold. Neville’s eardrums buzzed as Dolph held up the WWE Championship, eyes red, screaming something to the hard cam which wasn’t being picked up by the microphones.

Neville stared at the floor, grinding his teeth. “And the Royal Rumble winner can challenge whichever Champion they want, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Kevin said, “Why?”

Neville held up the piece of paper in his capsule and Kevin’s eyes widened enviously.

_30._

* * *

 

“Push harder!”

“ _You_ push harder!”

Seth and Neville grunted as Kevin clung to the ropes desperately, trying to get his feet up and over. Kevin kicked Neville in the head and slid back in under the bottom rope. Neville groaned, laid out on the mat and squinted up to see Kevin whip Seth into the ropes. Kevin executed the pop-up, but instead of the powerbomb, let Seth fly right over his head, over the top ropes and into the land of elimination.

It was hard to think over the competing chants as Kevin and Neville stood across the ring from each other. Kevin looked tired as hell, having spent so long in the Rumble. This was also when he was at his most dangerous. His vindictive reserve energy. The type that killed people.

Neville attempted a springboard moonsault but was caught by Kevin, and powerbombed into the mat. Kevin’s fists came down hard, over and over, and Neville curled up to shield his face from the blows.

“You don’t deserve it!” Kevin screamed, knuckles scraping against the surface of Neville’s forehead, “I’ve worked so hard. So long.. This is my time. Stop trying to steal everything from me. Like you always ha--”

The crowd had come completely unglued. Neville couldn’t see or hear anything clearly, but he could _smell._ Sami’s sweaty musk. What the hell was he doing?! Sami already had his match, and Neville was entrant number thirty, so there was no way--

**“Here is your winner… NEVILLE!”**

Two referees helped Neville to his feet. Held up his hand which made his ribs ache painfully. Sami was at the bottom of the ramp, chest heaving, but he wasn’t looking at Neville. He was staring at Kevin, barely stirring at ringside, a host of medical staff already crowding around him. Kevin was covered in blood.

“ _Sami_ ,” Neville breathed. One of the referee’s elbowed him in the side and he winced from the flare of pain. “What?!” The referee gestured his eyes to the Wrestlemania sign.

Neville weakly climbed to the second rope, looking blearily around at the arena which felt like it all existed in an alternate universe. He raised his finger and pointed to the sign and it exploded with pyrotechnics like magic.

 

* * *

 

This was it.

This was what he had always wanted, right?

The golden opportunity to become the face of the WWE. To hold above his head the exact same Championship Seth had held when Neville joined WWE three years ago. Not only that, two eighteens would be competing in the main event of Wrestlemania; unheard of. A pipedream.

And it all would be against his ex-(boy?)friend Dolph Ziggler in the most important, emotional match of his life.

Neville had to sacrifice his morals to get here, but it would be worth it. It just had to be.

There was no way to avoid the paparazzi and screaming fans as Neville's limo pulled up by the hotel. It was strange. Once upon a time he dodged paparazzi at The Rock’s birthday party. Now they followed him. It was unavoidable. Neville signed photo cards and t-shirts and people’s skin.

“ _You can do it, Neville! New WWE Champion!_ ” a female fan shrieked as he gave one last wave before entering through the back door of the hotel lobby.

WWE Champion.

_Maybe, just maybe._

Neville's phone buzzed in his hand. He expected it to be good wishes from family or old friends back home, but most likely it was his road agent informing him of a schedule change. It was neither of those things.

**rooting 4 you**

Neville didn't recognize the number. The way it was written was strange too. “ _Who texts like that?”_ his lips moved silently.

Thanks to his curiosity and an ominous feeling in his stomach (but most likely paranoia), Neville needed to find out who sent the text. It was the kind of thing he would lose sleep over thinking about it, and there was no way he was going to risk a restless night on the eve of the most important day of his life.

Surely someone would know the number.

Glancing around the lobby hotel, Neville spotted Sami leaning against the bar, sipping on an amber liquid that looked like it had long gone lukewarm. It was the night before Wrestlemania; maybe everyone would be in a more helpful mood? Sami had helped him win the Rumble, maybe he’d help him with finding his mystery texter too.

“Sami,” Neville's voice wavered as he approached. Sami looked up from his drink like he was ripped from another planet.

“Nev,” he said back, soft and surprised, almost a whisper. Remembering they were enemies at odds, his features darkened. “What do you want?“

Neville felt vulnerable but held out the phone regardless. “This number look familiar?”

“816?” Sami read out the area code, then shook his head. “Even if I did..” his voice faded away, contemplative. Then, he gave Neville a threatening look and downed the rest of his beer. Trying to hide how much he hated the taste, Sami got up and left without another word.

Neville stared into the space where Sami had been seated, only drawn out of it when the bartender asked if he wanted a drink, followed by a, “You okay, sir?”

“I’m, uh, I’m fine,” Neville said, “Just need some fresh air, I think.”

“Through the gaming room,” the bartender pointed.

“Thanks.”

For some reason, Seth was in the gaming room. He wasn’t even gambling just swinging around on one of the comfy chairs. With each revolution, he snatched a piece of chex mix from the snack bowl and crunched on it loudly. When he saw Neville, he forced the chair to a stop, then shook the spins from his head.

“I miss it,” Seth said abruptly.

Neville blinked. “Miss what?”

“Me, Randy, you, Dolph. They were fun times and I didn't even realize. I was still so bitter over Roman and Dean. I had the Championship back then, too.

“Do you hang out with Randy at all anymore?” Neville asked, reminding himself not to forget why he was talking to Seth in the first place.

“Not really. It’s not the same anymore. After I lost the title, everything went to shit. Maybe he only liked me for my status.”

Neville snorted. “As if he cares. Champion or not--”

Seth’s features darkened. “Whatever, Nev. Tomorrow, it doesn't matter who wins because it's gonna be real easy for me to get the Championship back off you.”

“Wait. That's not why I--”

“You think I give two shits about what you want?” Seth interrupted _again_. “All I want from you is your championship, Neville. _If_ you win it, that is. If you don't, then get the fuck out of my face.”

Neville stared, and shook his head, finding it hard to ignore the rage pooling in his gut. “Yer a fuckin’ pig, Rollins. Shame on me for ever thinkin’ more of ya. For thinkin’ there might be a chance of bein’ friends again.”

“We were never friends!” Seth exasperated. “You just focus the big match tomorrow of ours that, by the way, I’m ninety-nine percent sure you’re not going to win.”

“Fuck you,” Neville grunted, and fired a forearm to the side of Seth’s face. The two tumbled over the chair as it clattered to the carpet. Seth laid into Neville, who shielded his face. It was real messy brawl, almost drunken, despite both of them being completely sober. Neville viciously kicked Seth to incapacitate him enough, then threaded his arms around Seth’s to lock in the Rings of Saturn.

“What’s going on?!”

“Someone help!”

As they were pulled apart, Seth cried out in pain, nursing his arms. “You’re fucking crazy!”

Neville couldn’t hear anything over the static of his mind, so focused into Seth, so desperate to tear him apart, make him bleed.

“NEVILLE!”

It was Kevin’s voice. Kevin’s hands were on him. Neville felt weirdly sedated in his hold and went a half-limp, the reality of everything around them coming back to him. Roman was holding Seth back with staff and security closing in on all of them.

“You need to calm down,” Kevin said gruffly, being oddly reasonable. “I think you need to go to your room.”

The elevator whirred to life once they were inside and Neville kept his gaze pointed at a the ground. _Oh yeah_. He took his phone out of his pocket and held it up to Kevin blindly. “You know this number?”

“Nup,” Kevin said.

“Okay,” Neville said, putting it back in his pocket.

At level 38 the doors opened and as Neville went to walk out, Kevin put himself inside the doors, barring Neville from exiting. The doors tried to close but clunked as the sensor kicked in.

“What?” said Neville, confused.

“I..” Kevin blinked, like he was suddenly second guessing himself.

“Oh spit it out, Kev.”

“I.. _just wanted to say good luck for tomorrow_.” The words all slurred together with the speed in which they were spoken, then Neville was grasped by the collar and thrown out of the elevator. Before he could react, Kevin jammed his finger on a button inside the elevator and the doors closed. _Kevin..._

Kevin wanted him to win. So did his mystery texter.

_Fuck, who is it?!_

Neville turned over the other possible people he could ask in his mind. If only he had his old phone with all his old contacts before he stupidly threw it and smashed the hell out of it. Honestly, it wasn’t even his fault. It was all because after the brand split Dolph sent him those stupid fucking texts and _made him_ \--

Dolph. There was no one else with a wider network.

 _Damn it_.

It didn’t take long to figure out where Dolph’s hotel room was (all the champions shared a common level) since one door was blasting muffled Motley Crue from the inside. Neville had to quite literally pound on the wood for nearly a minute before the music shut off and the door was opened. Dolph froze up for a moment. Then, something strange flashed across his features but was gone too quickly to comprehend.

“Look, I don’t want to waste yer time I just have a question,” Neville said slamming his hand against the door as Dolph tried to close it.

“What?!” Dolph sighed, “I was kind of busy, you know.”

“Right, whatever.” Neville held up the number again. “Does this look familiar to you at all?”

“Yeah, that’s Randy’s number?” Dolph said without having to think about it, brows pinched. “Why are you showing me this?”

_Randy._

Randy wanted him to do well too. Dolph snatched the phone out of his hand, only for Neville to let out a bleary, “Hey?!”

“So he wants you to win,” Dolph said as he looked at the message on the phone, then shoved it back into Neville’s chest. “Of course he fucking does. _Everyone_ does.”

Neville fumbled with his phone before jabbing a snarl in Dolph’s direction. “Well that’s what you get for being such a wanker to everyone.”

“Oh, speak for yourself, kiddo.”

Neville ground his teeth. He felt a little dizzy when words that came next erupted out of his throat like vomit. “What happened to you, Dolph?” Neville had to push the door open again as Dolph tried to shut him out. “For god’s sake, just put me out of my two year misery. Why did you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Pretend to care about me!”

Dolph rolled his eyes. “I was _using_ you Neville. You were fun to fuck around with for a while and then I got bored. What else do you want me to say? What do you want me to do? What is going to make you happy?” he asked sarcastically (and a hint of curiosity, Neville swore).

Neville shoved Dolph roughly, making him stumble back. “ _You_ ,” he growled.

He stepped inside the WWE Champion’s hotel room and slammed the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything is breaking down. I hope this chapter doesn't seem too weirdly disjointed with all the time jumps.
> 
> You guys have no idea how excited I am to post the next chapter...
> 
> Kudos, comment, subscribe! Thank you for supporting this story so far!!


	11. Temporal Rift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neville demands to know the truth. Dolph finally complies.

“ _You_ ,” Neville repeated, a little snarl in his voice creeping through, “Need to listen to me, right now. Very carefully.”

That’s when the WWE Championship caught his eye. It lay neatly on a nearby armchair, freshly polished. Taunting him. Tempting him.

“Don’t even think about touching it,” Dolph panicked.

“I wasn’t gonna.”

“Your eyes are molesting it!”

Neville shook his head indignantly. “What is wrong with you?”

“With _me_?! Says the guy who just broke and entered into my hotel room.” Dolph picked up the phone reciever on on the desk and yelled into it. “Security! There’s an intruder in my--”

Neville slammed his finger down on the telephone hook and shoved Dolph back towards the bed, pointing a finger at him threateningly. “Sit down and _shut up_ ,” Neville ordered, heart beating furiously. “You genuinely cared about me once. I know you did. And I always wanted to tell you.. I wouldn't be in this position right now if not for you. I wouldn’t be in WWE if not for you.”

Dolph slowly lowered himself onto the side of the bed, wincing. He stared back at anxiously, holding his breath. “I didn't sign you,” he spat weakly.

“Not that, I know you didn’t,” Neville went on. “Randy told me what you did. Back when I was about three weeks into me time here and Rollins was being a right dick in the locker room. Randy stopped him but he told me you made him do it. You paid him out to. I would’ve _left the company_ if you hadn’t--”

“Oh, jesus. Neville, I--”

“I told you to shut it, ah? For once in your life, don’t interrupt me. Not until I get this out.” Neville exhaled slowly and smoothed down the flyaways from his bun. “I am sick and tired of lettin’ you hurt me. Before our match I want to know everything. I want for you for once in your life to tell me the truth, Dolph. You’re such a coward always hidin’ what you feel and so selfish and then I get caught up in it all with yer beguilin’ ways and yer flirtin’ and, fuck, every night before I go to sleep I think about you. Every single night. It’s drivin’ me insane. I want you out of my goddamn head but there’s so much I know you ain’t told me. Sometimes.. Sometimes I cry myself to bloody sleep because--” Neville’s voice cracked as he ran out of breath. He grit his teeth and tried with everything to not let tears surface. “-- ’Cause I fuckin’ ruined _everything_ in my life for you. If I didn’t break up with Kevin and Sami, I might still be with them, we might all be happy. Maybe not me but at least they would be. Now, none of us are fuckin’ happy. We’re all fuckin’ miserable assholes who hate each other and it’s horrible, it’s fuckin’ horrible. I’m tired, Dolph, I’m so tired. Really fuckin’ tired, aright. And you know what? I wish I never came to WWE. I wish I stayed in the indies, in PWG. I could’a been champion there, I should’ve aimed higher. No-one looks out for me here, no one watches my back. I came here, I came to WWE thinkin’ I didn’t need anybody but.. I do, I fuckin’ do and I hate it. I can’t do this shit on my own. I tried to be independant but I need help. It was the one fuckin’ thing I needed to prove to myself and validate myself. But I failed. I just.. _failed_.” Neville’s face twisted with hopelessness. “Adrian Neville the failure; business as usual.”

There is was. He finally admitted to himself what he’d known for all these years. Neville felt weak and small and useless. He was a failure. In the shaky silence aside, he roughly wiped his eyes with a forearm to remove the moisture he hoped wasn’t there.

“You're not a failure,” Dolph said softly.

“I am!” Neville combated, slamming his hands into the mattress on either side of Dolph, staring down dangerously. He huffed out a humourless laugh. “My career has been one giant failure! Even from day one. I failed in my PWG debut, Dolph!”

“PAC,” Dolph breathed out.

“No!” Neville’s elbows nearly buckled, eyes straining with indignance. “D-Don’t.. Don’t you… You don't have the _right_ to call me that. Suddenly all caring? What the fuck. You didn’t know me back-- When have you _ever_..”

“ _I was there_!” Dolph yelled, eyes squeezed shut as he grabbed Neville by the wrists. “I’ve.. I've _always_ been there.”

The bed didn’t feel like it was on even ground anymore. “What? What do you mean? Where?!”

Dolph kept his eyes shut and turned his head as if he had just seen something unpleasant. Maybe it was a good thing he couldn’t see Neville’s perturbed state. Dolph’s twisted up mouth was visible through the threads of hair across his face, brows downcast and hopeless. “My brother dragged me to All Star Weekend 4, years and years ago. I didn't want to go, I-”

Dolph was at All Star Weekend 4? Neville’s heart was white hot and his vision blurred. He couldn’t breathe, like all the air had been squeezed out of his lungs.

“I didn't want to go. I'd just been released from WWE as Billy Gunn like two weeks before. I was so fucking depressed. Ryan invited me to Cali and suggested we check out the PWG show on a whim. I was so mad and heartbroken at the time. It was just after I found out Hunter and Shawn were soulbound. I just.. I dunno. They had known each other for years but it wasn’t until Shawn had that change of heart, he came back at Elimination Chamber and then a few years later he’s suddenly Hunter’s soulmate? I couldn’t wrap my head around it. I’d never seen anything like that before. I didn’t think it was possible. I assaulted Hunter because I was jealous and upset and he had management so far up his ass that had me fucking fired.”

“But that was my..”

“And two weeks later, here I am in Redesa, watching this skinny kid try battle it out with AJ Styles in his debut and he was terrible and had these awful--” A weary laugh erupted out of Dolph. “-- these fucking _horrendous_ light blue wrestling trunks.”

Neville pushed away from the bed and collapsed against the desk. Dolph rolled onto his side, holding a hand over his eyes.

“And I just had to laugh because that kid kinda reminded me of myself when I was tiny George Wagner with all the heart in the world but none of the skill, getting my ass beat and looking like an idiot. Everyone was being such an asshole to you, too, and it was like, it was your first match, give the kid a break, you know? I hadn’t planned to go to both nights but I saw you had another match and I was curious. Luckily Ryan wanted to go but I acted like him asking me to go was a huge pain anyway. I wanted to see you work again, I was kind of thinking I might try find you after the show and offer to mentor you. But I realised that wasn’t necessary because you were booked against that olé olé El Generico guy and, fuck, babe, it was one of the most amazing matches I’d ever seen. Seriously. Shit was so contrived in WWE at the time but PWG- you and Generico- man it was raw and it was _real_. And it was like you were a completely different wrestler. I pretty much fell for you on the spot. Shit, I don’t know if it was just because of just you or because I was hurting after Shawn and my heart needed someone to latch onto but..”

Dolph sat up but dipped his head shamefully. Neville just watched, heart pumping wildly, mind numb.

“I didn’t.. _expect_ you,” Dolph confessed. “I never planned to have feelings like that for anyone again. I followed your career; almost obsessively after All Star 4. When I got released from the fed I was like, fuck it, _fuck them,_ that’s it, I’m done. But the more I saw you wrestle, it genuinely inspired me to not give up. You went to Japan and it was really difficult to get those Dragon Gate DVDs, like, Japanese websites are ridiculously confusing. Which was a shame because I was so proud of you for going overseas and taking a massive risk with your career like that. It really made me think about what I was doing with my own life, you know? So, I decided I would go back to wrestling. But not as Billy. I had to be someone completely different. I got some plastic surgery to make me look enough like a different person,” Dolph patted his jawbone lightly, “Cut my hair real short and bleached the shit out of it, trained my ass off and two fucking years to the day I saw you wrestle in Redesa, I returned to WWE. I even ran into Shawn on my first fucking night and he already looked so much older and I almost quit again right there but I thought about you and just kept thinking about hows you must have been working so hard in Japan, even though you probably felt really alienated. I knew you wouldn’t give up, no matter how shit it might be. And I knew if you knew me, you’d kick my ass for wanting to quit. So I didn’t quit.

“During all this time I had been so focused on getting back into the ring that I lost track of what you were up to until I finally got hands on one of those Dragon Gate DVDs and, _fuuuck Nev_ , you were cut to hell and I could hardly believe it was the same skinny kid I fell head over heels for from that PWG show. You were already adorable but now you were sexy as shit and I swear to god I nearly died when I saw you. I like, fucking pressed my face right up against the television screen because it was so crazy to me. I knew then I had to get you into WWE. I needed you with me. I was waiting for a match, a magic match of yours I knew would convince them. Then, you had that insane Super Juniors match with Devitt and it was exactly what I had been waiting for. I was actually jumping up and down when I watched it, I was so excited. God, you were fucking amazing. Graceful, a little suicidal, beautiful. Perfect. Honestly, it was the first time I genuinely thought, damn, this kid is better than I’ll ever be.

“I sent off the video and those fuckers thought it was a good match but you were too small to be a superstar. It pissed me off so much I lost it and yelled at Vince. I blew my cover and was nearly out on my ass for a second time. I assumed you didn’t get a call because you were back in PWG again after Japan and killing it with Sami and Owens. It was _so obvious_ you three were a thing but they were _so obviously_ soulbound and you were _so obviously_ not. It sounds horrible but I was fucking relieved, but I knew how hard it must of been for you. I wanted you to break away from them and do your own thing. You never held one major Championship while you were riding high with them, it was so.. _wrong_! Fuck, it made me mad. You deserved that glory too. You’re fucking amazing and they were holding you back. So, I kept going back to Vince and Regal and Steph, every month for _years_. Sign this kid, fucking sign him already. And finally when they stopped being so fucking precious and anal about ‘the look’, they gave you a tryout. You killed it of course. They had no other choice but to give you the contract you should have had years ago.

“Then you arrived here and I was so nervous. You come across so confident and sure in the ring, I never expected you to be so shy in real life. Nerdy, in a way. I completely screwed up my persona. How could someone like you like me, right? I’d built my whole brand around being this promiscuous dude and I fantasized for years about how we were going to meet. We were going to lock eyes and it would be on. You were supposed to choke me against the wall and fuck my ass until my voice went hoarse; but when you were actually here I couldn’t follow through. And you were.. god, you were such a sweet kid. And if I was with you I was gonna.. I couldn’t let you…”

Dolph made a choking sound, scrunching up his hair into his scalp. Neville was still frozen on the spot, a stream of silent, shocked tears stinging his cheeks.

“I couldn’t let me fuck you up, kid. I realised you were a real person and not like my fantasy PAC at all. I care about you too much to fuck you up your brain like that. But you were so enamoured with Randy from day one, I knew if I hung around with him as much as I could, eventually we would interact. But it would have to be totally innocent. Just friends. Fuck buddies at the very most. I swore to only give you the superficial, physical side of me. I couldn’t let myself give you any more than that. Not with all my baggage. Not to such a good.. _good_ person. But I slipped like a fucking idiot and I let you develop feelings for me and I tried to pull the plug on it all but I wanted you so bad that I couldn't help myself and now I’ve hurt you. I knew I would. All I’ve ever wanted is to make your dreams come true, Nev. I just wanted you to be…” Dolph trailed off, glancing over to the WWE Championship, still neatly on the armchair.

“All I want,” Dolph sighed softly. “All I’ve _ever_ wanted is to have one match with you. Not any match. _The_ match. If I worked my ass off, maybe just maybe I could with the top prize and then I could challenge you. But I had to get you across the ring from me without you being conscious of it. The draft fucked my plans up a bit, so I knew I had to set it up for the Rumble. Then you joined the Cruiserweights and I couldn’t reach you. So I had to try again next year, which was better because I had a lot more time to plan. Because I knew if you hated me, like really hated my fucking guts, you would be vindictive enough to win the Rumble. It was tricky to make sure you got number thirty in the draw so I switched out the ball cage for your pick with a cage where all the numbers were thirty. With all this, I knew I would meet you across the ring at Wrestlemania.” Sweating, Dolph slowly raised his eyes to meet Neville’s, chest heavy.

“And now... Now I’ve done it. We’re going to fight. A real fucking fight. I’m not going to go easy on you, kid, but if it all goes down how I think it’s gonna… then this time tomorrow you’re going to be WWE Champion.”

_...._

Neville must be dreaming. It didn’t sound real. It _couldn’t_ be real. He couldn’t seem to spin his thoughts into comprehension. Dolph Ziggler had just poured his soul out to him (an eleven year obsession, no less) and Neville couldn’t say one bloody thing in response.

“Well,” Dolph cut through the silence, staring at his wrung fingers. “There it is.”

After a really long time, Neville said a word but it came out hoarsely silent so he had to clear his throat roughly. And finally, “ _Fuck you_.”

Dolph looked up, shocked and confused. Maybe he’d fantasised about this confession a lot. Maybe he’d been expecting a completely different kind of reaction.

“You lied to me,” Neville repeated darkly. “You manipulated me, Dolph. All I wanted for two years is to be with you and now you’re telling me you did too for even longer but you didn’t because you think you’d hurt me?! Are you for real?! Worst of all, you made me cheat without me knowing. Now if I win that Championship it will be _tainted_. Goddamn, I don’t.. I don’t even want to fight you anymore. Fucking Seth can take my spot, I don’t even care.”

“Nev?!” Dolph panicked, reaching out for him but Neville ripped himself away. Neville backed up, chest heaving and snatched the WWE Championship off the seat. It was strangely heavy in his hand as he held it up with a sensation that the leather was white hot. His lungs were burning; his arm tensed painfully.

“You think I want this now? Now that your selfishness has defecated on it?! Now that it’s been--” No, the belt was quite literally burning into his hand. His whole arm felt like it was on fire. “-- _that it’s been_ \--” It was spreading to his chest, now, like a blacksmith’s iron. Cold sweat poured off his forehead as the rest of his body burned up. Neville swayed, trying to catch himself as the world tipped under his feet. Before he could yell for help, all the heat rushed into his dick, over-expanding in a second, the sensation so intense that it was far past the point of pleasure and into a demonic agony.

Neville wasn’t sure what was going on but he was terrified and he needed someone, anyone, to release him. Fuck, maybe he was going to die. “Dolph,” he moaned desperately, and the voice didn’t sound like him. Somehow Dolph was there, carefully removing his pants and he felt weirdly violated at the same time as intensely grateful. “What’s happening to me?”

“You’re Recrudescing. What do you need?” Dolph asked softly.

“Fuck me, fuck me, god. Please. Just. Fuck my fucking brains out. Make this go away. Make it stop. Please, Dolph. _Please_.”

Dolph seemed at odds with himself. “Are you sure? Nev, I thought you said you didn’t--”

“Put it in me,” Neville begged, gruff and barely intelligible, grasping Dolph’s t-shirt roughly. He arched his back, the hot fire inside him releasing in a moaned rush of, “ _Now._ ”

The last thing Neville could make out was Dolph wiping the sweat from his brow before his vision went to white static. He couldn’t tell if it was Dolph’s fingers or his dick but something slid up inside Neville. There was a slight burn before pure ecstasy and it was so strange. Neville never bottomed. He hated things up his ass but this was the best fucking thing he’d ever felt in his life. Dolph pushed forward and Neville felt his ass cheeks gathered up in handfuls to thrust into him with driving force.

“This okay?” Dolph asked, the words punching out of him.

Neville made a sound of agreement. It’s all he could manage.

“Shit, this is amazing, babe.”

Dolph’s hands wandered down to Neville’s thighs, massaging into them as the sensation of being fucked became primal and raw as Dolph closed the distance. With Dolph’s perfect body gradually draping over his back, the excruciating heat gushing through his veins seemed to slow down. He felt his blood cool. Neville let out a desperate grunt.

“There? That good? Like this?” Dolph fired.

Neville groaned. _Yes, yes, fuck yes, oh my fuckin’ god._

“Oh jesus, Neville. You feel so fucking good. _Shit_.”

With his body rapidly cooling and the fucking becoming less painful and more pleasurable, Neville could explicitly feel Dolph’s cock driving into his prostate, enough to finally shake him out of himself. The orgasm was so intense that the world tipped back to its correct axis and his temporal existence fused back to normal.

“Dolph,” Neville whispered, after a time. Once all the sensations became manageable.

“Come on,” Dolph said. Neville’s breathing was back to a regular pace. “You need a cold shower, it will make you feel amazing, I promise.”

“That was wonderfully wretched,” Neville finally said, once the were in the shower together. Water which would normally feel freezing on his skin was perfect, seeming to watch that awful Recrudesce shit away.

Dolph laughed weakly, combing his sopping hair all to one side. “That’s a good way of putting it. Are you okay?”

“I guess. You?”

“Fine, I think. That felt pretty good but let’s not make a habit of it. Out of the cute asses between us getting destroyed, I much prefer it to be mine.”

“Agreed. My backside feels weird and loose. I’m not fond of it.”

“What?! But that’s the best part,” Dolph slapped him jokingly on the pec. “See this is why we’re that damn good together.”

Neville pulled away. “I’m still furious at you, Ziggler. Don’t be thinking this is gettin’ you off the hook.”

“But I just--”

“Look, just, we’ll talk this over when I’m more--”

Neville’s breath hitched at he spotted something on Dolph that was... _strange_. Maybe the come down from the Recrudesce was making his eyes play tricks on him but...

“Do people Recrudesce after they grow up?”

Dolph tilted his his head curiously, “Not that I’m aware of, why?”

Neville’s heart sunk. Then he reached up through the shower stream and tugged on one of Dolph’s strands of hair until it came loose.

“Ow?!” Dolph grimaced, “What was that fo--”

Thick, stringy and white. Unmistakably, a grey hair.

Dolph froze. His eyebrows twisted upwards like he didn’t know how to react. Without a word, he shut off the water.

“How do I look?” Neville choked out, thankful that tears could be mistaken for shower water.

Dolph’s lips screwed up and he shook his head in a way that meant, ‘ _The same_ ’. The hair had been kind of hidden, despite Dolph being completely brunette. There was no way of telling how long it had been there, especially when Neville hadn’t seen him this intimately in so long.

Neville had to ground himself as Dolph went limp in his arms with an exhausted whimper and rest his head over Neville’s aching heart. Other than their heaved breathing, the only sounds were the drips from the drain. They stayed there for a while, naked, wet bodies wrapped around each other, not knowing how to feel.

Someone discovering they were soulbound was supposed to be an exciting milestone. At least Neville always assumed it would be a joyous realisation. Especially for someone like Dolph who had been waiting for this for a long, _long_ time.

And as much as Neville hated Dolph right now, he had always clung to the fantasy that maybe, just maybe, they were soulbound.

But of course they weren’t.

Life didn’t work that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :'(


	12. Ephemeral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neville and Dolph have their Wrestlemania main event for the WWE Championship. Who will win? And will their relationship survive everything that's happened?

It was nearly time. Gorilla felt crowded and chaotic. Disjointed moments of Neville and Dolph’s life cut together on a pre-match vignette. It felt uncomfortably rushed; hacked together in a way that didn't honour the minute and precious nuances of their relationship.

It didn't show the first time Neville had tripped over Dolph outside the stage door when they first met.

It didn’t follow their journeys riding together when they had tag teamed, slowly getting to know each other, and trust each other.

It didn’t explain the significance of getting stranded in the Sonoran Desert, or the shitty motel with the lime green pool and the lemon in the bedside table.

It only implied that obsession may equal love. Their cursed love that would have no satisfaction of a happy ending.

No, the audience wouldn't understand any of that. Not properly. All they would see is a former friendship turned sour, and two eighteens with massive chips on their shoulders in a “history making” match (at least, the audience still thought Dolph was eighteen).

The vignettes mood changed with clips of Stephanie airing. She boasted about WWE revolutionizing the industry by having two eighteens in the main event of Wrestlemania. _Not like every any other indie promotion has done it already,_ Neville sighed sarcastically.

The non-vignette body of Stephanie McMahon stood behind her father’s station with a scowl. Whatever she had planned in advance for the main event had long been spoiled. They all knew, even the fans, that this was not what Stephanie had wanted. If Neville wasn’t so afflicted from Dolph pouring his heart out to him the night before, he might have felt some satisfaction in messing up Stephanie’s plans.

Speaking of Dolph, he was standing on the opposite side of gorilla, the front plate of the WWE Championship pressing into the top of his backside. He always wore his Championship backwards; always loved to make little conscious decisions to show that he was special, or different. Neville may have found that admirable, once upon a time. Tears welled in the corners of Dolph’s eyes as he stared unmoving at the vignette, making Neville’s heart skip a beat.

Neville's chest twisted, annoyed that the man who had caused him so much pain for so long could still tug at his heartstrings like that. He glued his eyes to the ground instead. Neville supposed Dolph had been waiting to experience this moment for a long time, if his confession was to be believed…

But, Neville was still mad.

He still felt cheated.

The vignette drowned out to staccato bangs of pyro and Neville’s music blared in the stadium which sounded so oddly far away. Knowing it was going to be a long battle, Neville gave his hair a few extra sprays of water.

Then the thought hit him: when he walked back through the curtain he might be a few kilos heavier.

Maybe.

_Probably not._

Neville pushed into the blinding lights and the fanfare of thousands upon thousands of people hit him belatedly. In that moment, he promised himself to never look back.

 

* * *

 

_One.. Two.. Thr--_

Neville lurched forward, Dolph kicking out from under him. _How_? That had been a picture perfect superplex. How was Dolph finding the energy?

Maybe.. Maybe Dolph was better than him after all. How could he compete with that level of experience? The man who reinvented himself twice. Too much of a veteran after all.

Neville crawled a couple feet and collapsed against the mat. It smelled terrible, the only way a wrestling ring could after 7 hours of a show. He craned his neck up blearily to the crowd, barely able to make out a face. Even though he knew they were yelling and cheering, inside the ring, it was oddly silent.

There was no way Neville could drag Dolph back up there; back up to the top rope for another superplex. He didn't even think he could lock in the Rings of Saturn. Neville was completely spent.

“SEVEN!”

Neville dragged himself to the ropes and slowly pulled himself to an enough of a vertical to stop the double elimination count. He stayed there, panting, brain dry. There was nothing more he could do. One more knock to the head and he'd be a goner.

Neville took an excruciating step and he watched, breath heaving as Dolph straightened out his back to a stand, vertebrae by vertebrae.

Then, time stood still.

Dolph had _that_ look in his eyes. The exact same look he had every time he was about to do a superkick. Something about way his lip tweaked with confidence but his eyes were distant and longing, chasing a stupid retrospective validation from the only man Dolph had ever wanted to be soulbound to.

But there weren’t enough superkicks in the world that could make Shawn love Dolph back.

Neville only knew because he loved Dolph enough to watch every single one of his matches intently and intimately. He knew because that look broke his heart every single time Dolph did a superkick.

Just another reminder that he and Dolph weren't soulbound. Eventually, Neville was going to have to come to terms with that.

Maybe he should start now.

Neville caught Dolph’s superkick. The Show Off’s eyes widened in shock. He only waited a beat before dropping Dolph with a dragon screw leg whip. Dolph tumbled aside, then screeched in pain, nursing his leg. Neville straightened up, lined Dolph up in his sight and hit a standing moonsault.

Having no idea where he scrounged up the energy to do that, Neville whipped his sight up to the top turnbuckle, back to Dolph lying barely conscious in front of him, and then to the audience which had come completely unglued, sensing what was going to come next.

Neville hoisted himself to the turnbuckle in one swift motion. The Red Arrow slammed down, bouncing him up before he landed on Dolph, practically laying on top of him, too exhausted to cover him properly. If Dolph kicked out of this, then there was nothing left than for Neville's body to forfeit for him.

“ _Adrian._ ”

Neville’s heart froze.

“ _You did it, Adrian.”_

The bell rung. It was over.

“ **AND _NEW_ WWE CHAMPION… NEVILLE**!“

“What?!” Neville asked breathlessly, pushing up onto his hands to look at Dolph, who lay motionless, his expression oddly calm.

“Congratulations Neville,” the ref pulled him upright, handing him the heavy title.

Neville stared out to the tens of thousands of cheering, elated people. He turned around, trying to make out faces. Then he remembered his family, they were in the front row. He dropped to roll out of the ring, and stumbled into his mother’s arms over the barricade.

“I’m so proud of you, so proud,” she sobbed.

“Muh, yer embarrassin’ me,” he sighed fondly, letting all the sounds fade into a blur as his family enveloped him, wishing that those arms could be Dolph’s instead. If he weren't so mentally, physically and emotionally spent, he'd kick himself for thinking that.

 

* * *

 

“Wait, kid, _wait!_ ”

Neville paused as he was being escorted, and turned around to see Dolph half-limp, half-running up the hallway towards him.

“Sir, we need to leave for New York, now.”

“I’m the Champion,” Neville said to the security guard, subconsciously gripping the belt around his waist for comfort. “The private jet can wait.”

“Men,” Asuka sighed, adjusting her own Championship belt, “I wait for _no men_.” And she stormed off in the direction of the shuttle.

“Better make it quick or Asuka will have me head,” Neville said, weakly half-smiling. Dolph didn’t mirror the expression.

“Hear me out,” Dolph said. “Please.”

Neville’s gut clenched. “I can only handle so much of yer confessions these days, you know.”

“No, I know, it’s just..” Dolph sighed with frustration, pushing freshly washed hair out of his eyes. “I don’t care who the fuck I’m soulbond to. Fuck them. I want to be with you.” There was a franticness to Dolph now, like he was painfully aware of his newfound mortality. “Please,” he added, again.

“I can't watch someone I love grow up without me again,” Neville frowned.

Dolph's tense features eased. “Love?”

Neville’s throat made a weird sound.

“You love me?”

“You said it first,” Neville protested. Dolph’s chest heaved against his shirt, staring at Neville with regret. “When you were…” Neville trailed off. When he was recrudescing. So not of sound mind. It felt like an eternity ago.

Dolph swallowed thickly. “For the record, I--”

“Don’t say it,” Neville intoned quickly. “Just, don’t alright. Come to New York with me instead.”

“Really? Why?” Dolph blinked.

“They have the best soulbond clinics there. We’re gonna to find out who you’re truly bound to.”

Dolph opened his mouth to protest, then hung his shoulders in defeat.

 

* * *

 

Neville glanced around to the other couples in the soulbound clinic waiting room. He had already seen two confirmed soulbounds and one rejection. The couple had been so distraught; a horrid reminder of when Kevin, Sami and he had their test done. It affected Neville so much that he had to get up and buy them hot chocolates from the cafe across the hall. They were extremely grateful about it, and he hoped it would help a little.

On the other hand, there was Dolph.

“Would’ja sit down?” Neville said as he returned to where Dolph had been pacing back and forth, wiping his brow every twenty seconds. “You’re bein’ so.. _frustratin’_.”

“What's taking them so long?” Dolph panicked, trying to stand still for a moment but then throwing his hands up in the air and went back to pacing. He fidgeted, clicking both fingers before slapping a fist with his hand in succession to make an irritating pattern of sounds. “Does it always take this long these days?”

It suddenly occurred to Neville that Dolph may not have ever had the test done in his life. “I dunno it’s different for everybody, I guess.”

“How long did it take for you? With Kevin and Sami, I mean.”

“Uh, I think that’s an irregular case because there was the three of us. Also, it was more involved because they had to triple checking my DNA.”

“But how long?!”

“Geez, Dolph. I dunno, just over an hour?” Neville sighed audibly, watching Dolph in his peripheral for as long as he could before he lost it. “ _Will you calm down_!”

“But it's already been,” Dolph glanced to the clock on the wall, “Shit, it’s been nearly an hour and you said yourself the technology is way better these days, like I don’t even know how this shit works, I never thought I would ever need to take one, so clearly--”

Neville stood up, roughly taking Dolph’s hands in his. He needed a moment of his own to calm himself down. “Just take it easy, yeah? There’s no point in freakin’ out until we know.”

_We._

Neville suddenly wanted to freak out, himself. Why was he doing this? Dolph could’ve have gone and done the test by himself. Neville didn’t have to be present to have his heart broken all over again.

“Kid?”

Neville realised his hands were violently shaking, and he stole them back, holding them close to his heart. “I’m fine.”

“You--”

“Rudolph?”

Dolph and Neville turned their heads in tandem to a short woman, who he supposed was the results doctor. Neville rubbed the sweat off his hands on his sweatpants. He nervously adjusted the top button of his polo shirt and trailed behind Dolph, who power-walked ahead. The Championship seemed to get heavier and heavier with each step.

Neville’s heart deflated as he stepped inside the doctor’s office. He wasn’t ready for this.

“Have a seat, and thanks for your patience,” she said. “I’m Moira, the results doctor. So, I’ll just go over a few things that we found out from the tests. We discovered some irregularities with your DNA so we had to repeat a couple times to get the information we needed.”

Neville sunk deeper into his chair, keeping his eyes focused on a small bookshelf with some children’s picture books. Dolph reached out a clammy hand to grip his, which made Neville look up to the doctor.

“I wanted to go through some of the details here, just so you’re aware of what’s going on,” she said, opening a manila folder and spreading out a dozen papers with medical terms and graphs and numbers.

“But, am I soulbound?” Dolph interrupted, squeezing Neville’s hand Involuntarily. Neville squeezed back wearily. He probably should’ve taken off the title from his waist before sitting down.

The doctor blinked. “Oh, yes. But I thought you were already aware to that,” she said to Dolph, as if they were already privy to the results. Dolph turned his head to stare with wide eyes and Neville mustered up everything in his being to offer an encouraging smile back. He nodded back to the papers and his smile vanished once Dolph wasn’t looking.

“With who? Can you tell?” Dolph asked, thoat in knots, “Can’t you do a database search thingy these days?”

“Well, yes, but it wasn’t necessary,” she said, looking to Neville for clarification.

“Do you know who he’s soulbound to?” Neville asked more clearly.

Moira tilted her head. She gestured a pen to Neville, then moved it back and forth between Dolph as well. “We obviously checked the DNA you had on file first, Mr. Neville.” She paused, clearing her throat when no one else said anything. “It’s you.”

Neville's heart stopped.

“You’re soulbound to each other,” Moira clarified.

_Wait.._

Moira stared at their languid expressions, as if them being soulbound was not already painfully obvious.

“But,” Dolph said, breathlessly.

Neville felt.. he felt _nothing_. Numbness. He couldn’t feel Dolph’s hand around his anymore. “I-I’m soulbound?” he asked in a voice smaller than he intended, staring at her desperately.

“Sorry, I’m a little confused.” Moira glanced between them, then swivelled to pull out some of the papers which looked like personal reports. Her eyes flicked down each line before widening. “Oh my god,” she put a hand over her mouth.

Neville’s heartbeat came back to him, like his consciousness was slowly waking up. He chest heaved with breaths, heart thundering underneath. Dolph was still holding his hand, but it was a vice grip now and his gaze was glued to the floor between his knees.

“This is.. I’m so sorry, I.. I’ve never seen anything like this. Mr. Ziggler, I’ve been so insensitive. I read this as eighteen and nineteen, not eighteen and _one hundred_ and nineteen.”

“It’s okay,” Dolph choked out defencelessly. “But, with him, yes? You absolutely sure?”

“Yes, it’s a one hundred percent definite.”

Dolph’s throat made a weird sound and he let go of Neville’s hand to lean forward and cover his face. His back rose and fell with jarring breaths.

“But I don’t look any older, I don’t think,” Neville said weakly.

“Well, those were the irregularities I wanted to explain. We traced your bind date to April 27th, 2015, and since today is April the 8th, this makes your new ages twenty and one hundred and seventeen, and twenty and eleven, respectively. And, you’ll be having your third anniversary just under three weeks!”

“But, we’ve both recrudesced since then?” Neville said.

“ _Juventus iterum_ is not an indicator of being unbound,” Moira debunked, emphasising the correct medical term, not the colloquial vulgar kind. “It’s an extremely rare condition that generally only occurs with people who have been eighteen for extended periods of time, when the mind or body is under tremendous amounts of mental or physical stress. While you both having it after becoming bound is unusual, it’s not impossible. However, I’ve never heard of a case of _juventus iterum_ five years after being bound. Which brings me to my next question,” her eyes wandered their physiques and glanced up to both of them. Neville's gut twist uncomfortably. “Have either of you taken performance enhancing drugs?”

Dolph looked up, “Uhh..”

“Yes,” Neville said, figuring there was no point in hiding it.

Dolph sighed, but said nothing. Neville nudged him with an elbow. “It was the 40s,” Dolph offered, as if that justified it. “ _And_ the 90s.”

“It’s highly common for athletes and Olympians to have extremely irregular soulbound cases. The drugs seem to stifle the ageing process. There have been cases where the two parties haven’t discovered they’re bound for years and years after. We don’t know why this happens. There’s only so much we understand about soulbinding as it is, let alone why a drug that doesn’t affect a person’s’ DNA would affect their age.”

“So I’m just--”

“Babyfaced?” Moira finished Neville’s sentence with a smile. “Sure, you could say that.” Her phone rang and she picked it up, speaking things that Neville’s ears could no longer comprehend. She put down the receiver. “Sorry, I need to step out for a moment. We’ll have a few more minutes when I get back if you have any more questions.” Then she promptly left.

There was not a sound between Neville and Dolph for many moments. Neville couldn’t look at Dolph for some reason. This is what he always wanted, wasn’t it? He wished the last two years hadn’t been marred with their rivalry. He wished their trust didn’t need to suffer for the sake of Dolph’s dream to get him to the top of the card.

Neville gently placed his hand on Dolph’s thigh, who jolted slightly, impossibly blue eyes flashing up to meet his gaze. “I suppose it was I who caught the beautiful babe, after all,” he purred gently.

“Wh-what?” Dolph blinked, heart pounding audibly.

Neville leaned close and kissed him sweetly, “Don’t worry, I’m used to it.”

A melancholic giggle erupted from Dolph’s throat, then he melted into Neville’s arms, his fragile composure finally cracking. “I can’t believe it,” he said, choking up.

“I know,” Neville smiled.

Dolph cupped Neville’s jaw with trembling hands. “This,” he marvelled, “This is all mine.”

Neville’s heart felt like it was soaring high above the clouds. He wondered it he might be having an extremely vivid dream, which he would soon wake from and tumble into a pit of disappointment. Well, if it was a dream, than he better not leave it with any regrets.

“I love you, you bloody bastard, Dolph Ziggler,” Neville grinned, hugging around the neck of his soulmate (yes! His _soulmate_ ) and pulled him close.

Dolph rasped a laugh, his whole body shaking in Neville’s embrace, as if he was releasing one hundred years worth of bottled up stress and heartbreak. “I love you, you hot piece of ass, Adrian Neville.”

Neville snorted, feeling the first hot tear slip from his eye. “Fuckin’ ‘ell.”

“I love this face,” Dolph admired, kissing Neville’s cheek. “I love these shoulders,” he squeezed his hands over the tight sleeves of Neville’s poloshirt. “These pecs, these abs. Oh god, these abs. They’re mine. I get to have all of them.” Dolph found Neville’s hands, bringing them to his mouth, suckling at his fingers with a warm tongue. “I love these perfect hands.”

Neville was now crying and blushing hotly. “You’re being weird,” he coughed, embarrassed, even though they were the only humans in the room.

“I don’t care,” Dolph muffled through a mouthful of fingers, eyes catching Neville’s gaze which made his heart backflip. Dolph bit down.

“Ow!” Neville stole his hand back, shaking it. “You bugger.”

“ _Your_ bugger.”

Neville rolled his eyes fondly. “Come ‘ere.”

They locked up into the sweetest kiss, allowing the entire world melt around them for a happy, carefree moment. Dolph’s mouth was warm and delicious, with the perfect amount of dampness to his tongue- just like it always had been. The kiss that would no longer haunt his dreams. A kiss he could have whenever he damn well wanted.

“ _All the other lemons are going to be so jealous_.”

“Huh?” Dolph pulled away an inch, handsome features tuned with curiosity. “What was that?”

“Nothing,” Neville said, not realising he’d accidentally said that aloud. He reached forward to kiss Dolph’s hairline and pull him into another tight hug. He was so at peace he didn’t even hear the doctor return to the office.

They were happy. They were actually bloody happy and they were going to have the opportunity to have a life together. Growing old together. Neville wasn’t going to be eighteen forever. He was finally picked.

And thinking of his Grandma, Neville lost it completely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *grins cheekily*

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a one-shot but it got far too out of hand. If you enjoyed this, please let me know! I love hearing your feedback <3


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